One-Way Ticket
by WhymsicalBell
Summary: The Hogwarts Express takes everyone to the station, then wizards go home by portkey right? What if Draco and Hermione, enemies, bade goodbye only to be reunited outside Hermione's neighbourhood. "I think..." said Draco softly, "They screwed up my portkey. And they only run twice a year, I think...I'm here to stay." Hermione paled. Romance. Complete.
1. Accidental Portkey

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 1: Accidental Portkey

End of the school year. The Hogwarts Express takes everyone to the train station, where they then go home by side-along apparation, portkey, or car right? Well what if Draco and Hermione, enemies, bade goodbye with fued in their veins and hatred in their eyes...only to be haphazardly reacquainted sometime later outside Hermione's neighbourhood. "I think..." said Draco softly, "They screwed up my portkey. And you know...Hogwarts Express portkeys only run once a year. I think I'm here to stay..." he finished to Hermione's rapidly paling face.

"You have to be joking," the brunette, brown-eyed girl of fifteen said, surveying the tall, blonde boy with the pointed features who had been through the last five years of Hogwarts with her, and would be currently on holiday before joining her for the sixth. They were standing in the intersection near the entrance of her neighbourhood. Her parents had dropped her of for they had to do some last minute grocery shopping, and Hermione, having made the journey to and from Hogwarts twice each year for the last five years, had decided that she didn't need their babying, and was fine to be dropped of at the entrance of her neighbourhood, to walk through it alone before she reached her quaint little house that she was always happy to return to after a long school year, before they returned home.

Imagine her shock when she stepped out, only to be greeted with Draco apparating out of nowhere next to her, and her startled yelp as she clutched his arm and pulled him behind a pole, exclaiming on instinct what would the muggles think, before Draco angrily rubbed his arm, said as much impressed as he was by her quick reflexes, did she really think a pole was an appropriate hiding spot to hide him, and stepping out angrily.

Hermione only bristled further, anger turned to skyrocket when Draco bought out a grey gift box with a golden-brown ribbon knotted around it - a relic of a portkey, and briskly proclaimed the news it was likely his portkey that was screwed up, to which Hermione gave the less than satisfactory response of 'you have to be joking'.

"I'm not. Everything was fine until I touched the portkey to apparate to Malfoy Manor. And then I appeared here," for the first time, Draco was also looking rather alarmed and even paler than before, if possible, at the turn of events. "It has to be the portkey. It was wired wrong. What else could it be?"

"Well turn it back," said Hermione, fidgeting her hands before reaching out to touch the disguised present box that she thought was ridiculous the Malfoys considered an 'ordinary object a witch or wizard could be carrying at any time' design to request from the ministry.

The present box disintegrated into glitter as she touched it. They fell through her fingers and ended up on a grey pile on the ground before being blown away by the meandering wind. Talk about a weak portkey.

"I can't. It was wired once. Configured once when I touched it. I'm here now."

"What about your parents? Can't you write to them to take you back home?" said Hermione.

Some kids had come out of the neighbourhood now, and were glaring at Hermione and Draco suspiciously. There weren't many almost albino-like blondes in her neighbourhood, even though Draco's was a touch blonde more than an albino's, much less a male with such hair, much less there being common knowledge of _Hermione's_ acquaintance with such a person, and she could practically feel the little kids staring. Especially as they were standing at one of the more prominent intersections, in broad daylight, on a public space.

It didn't help that Draco was in full Hogwarts wear, and Hermione was wearing possibly the ugliest and most scruffiest muggle clothes she owned - she never bought much muggle clothes to Hogwarts, so what came tended to be pretty generic, and ones she grabbed at random from her wardrobe. Plus a year of wear and tear, and they pretty much looked scruffly with a capital S.

"Oh. Come now, people are staring," she said, taking his arm and leading him away from the intersection, subconsciously, towards her house. Her parents had taken her luggage at the train station, secured it in their trunk and told her not to worry about it until they returned home so she didn't have to worry about that thank god, and she supposed Draco's luggage was probably sent back or something, as he had not appeared with his. Which made it easier to walk through the neighbourhood.

"I don't think so. Portkeys only open and close once in a year. It's hard to get them from the ministry. Even higher up people need special permits and a protocol to get them. Also, it's hard to wire it from a secluded muggle neighbourhood such as this. They work better at the entrance points to and from muggle words. I think...I'm here to stay until next year," he said softly, staring at Hermione. She was almost unnerved by how calm he seemed. She was going to ask him about it later, when another thought popped to mind.

"Your parents...how would they-" she was going to say 'deal with you staying in what they deem a inferior society due to their views' but thought that was awfully rude, even then, and settled on saying, "Are they okay with you living so far for quite an extended period of time?"

"I'll write. They'll understand. A portkey is permanent though. Almost like a one-way ticket. I guess I'm here to stay."

"I guess..."

She missed the slight sad flicker in his gaze when she failed to show anything more positive.

"How will your parents take a guest?" he asked.

Hermione swallowed the urge to say quite well, and that her parents were always asking about her Hogwarts friends, and inquiring for one of them to stay for a while in the summer from her letters of them. Also the fact that her parents had been remarking it was poor behaviour for a teenage girl to stay at home so much, and that short of arranging 'playdates' with Hermione's old classmates, they were almost looking at having a foreign exchange student over for just this purpose, perhaps Hermione could take them around the city or something as something that would help them learn and her talk to some more people.

Instead she settled for saying, "I'm sure they have adequate preparations to prepare for an unexpected visitor for a while or so. If you seriously must go back. Meanwhile, let's go to my house. It's not that far from here," she said.

They were walking uphill.

"And you'll have to change out of your clothes. And how will you write to your parents? You didn't bring an owl did you?"

"You forgot that owls always find their receipients," drawled Draco, "I'll just wait for an owl from my parents to come to me and hitch a letter back. I suspect my clothes will be with my trunk, which will be with my parents, which are quite far from here."

"We'll have to go department store shopping to buy you a new wardrobe then. This won't do," said Hermione, eyeing the stray pair of Hogwarts robes Draco was currently wearing. She tried to imagine Draco in something casual like jeans and a t-shirt, and she almost gave herself an aneurysm. Some things were impossible.

"I'll be worried. What items does your petty little stores carry?" asked Draco, staring blankly at Hermione. He really didn't know muggle fashion, and hoped the men weren't still in pantaloons, what his father told him was standard wear for muggle men in the 16th century at the time the wizarding population segregated from them.

You needn't be, Hermione fought the urge to say, viewing how Draco, with his tall height, slim frame, pointed elbows and chin, and crop of blonde hair, was practically every Abercrombie and Filch's dream model for teenage boy fashion. Even the mannequins were fitted with blonde wigs for a fashion statement, she almost noticed. It really was uncanny how even here, Draco was still the muggle definition of attractive. She wasn't sure where he was by wizarding standards but considering she had always seen him with a gaggle of girls at Hogwarts, she supposed it wouldn't be fair to say he was too low down. A part of her glowered at that, even though she couldn't pinpoint why.

"Cloaks with fur. Tights. Pantaloons," she said savagely.

Draco turned almost dead white. Hermione was startled. He couldn't seriously have thought?

"They have clothes for weird people who don't fit in," she said by way of letting him know there were other options he may have preferred, though an idea was twinkling in her head.

"Good. I wouldn't mind dressing like a pauper in your kingdom if it meant I could dress like a king in mine," he said, swinging his arms and sticking his head up as he walked.

Really, almost model material, Hermione thought with a huff, she could have to keep him unacquainted from the muggle mannequins lest he get ideas. What a long summer indeed.

"We're here," she said, and they stepped out from around a corner and viewed the quiet modest house of Hermione in their suburban neighbourhood. Suddenly everything seemed all the more real. The accident that was here to stay. It seemed to weigh and press on them, more than ever, more than the weight of the leaves and the trunks of the ancient oaks towering in Hermione's neighbourhood. A breeze fluttered, branches shifted and the oak creaked, Draco glanced back at Hermione, a poignant look in his eyes that may have hid the slightest amount of fear.

Hermione gave a small smile back.

Draco went back to staring at her house. Two storey, cream vanilla walls, a modest amount of windows with quaintly decorated lace curtains, a neatly kept garden, windows showing the slightest hint of an interior which suddenly seemed filled with too many unexpected things and personal relics of the Hermione Granger he had hated all these years. No-way zone. An accident. One-way ticket.

This was really it.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, I'd appreciate a review and in case you're wondering, yes I know portkeys are highly unlikely to fail, and his situation is highly unlikely to be unable to be rectified for long in canon, but I needed a reason for them to get together and I reckon this could get interesting. Thanks for reading this far, and I hope you enjoyed and wouldn't mind leaving a review ;), happy reading!

EDIT(15-3-19): I mentioned I would take this story down to work on it a bit. And the beginning few chapters are the same, but I think I'll make more changes towards the later ones.

EDIT(29-07-20): This was the first story I ever finished and some parts of it were kind of cringe, please don't judge me too harshly tho! I was an inexperienced writer and halfway through my updating schedule changed due to real life, and I kept going because I wanted to finish it for the few valuable reviewers who expressed interest in this story, so sorry for the cringeyness if you see any~~, if I had to rewrite it now, I would write some things differently, but please just be happy I completed a story cause I cared about the readers! :)

-WhymsicalBell


	2. Meeting the Parents

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 2: Meeting the Parents

"I think they're coming," said Hermione, peering out the window at the far end of the hall.

They had gone upstairs and were in Hermione's bedroom, waiting for her parents to arrive. And if there was the slightest amount of cooperation and companionship from the shock of finding out the situation and not knowing how to react, it had all but dissipated right now, and the age-old feud had continued.

Draco was haughty, and stuck-up and arrogant, and genuinely believed himself to be of superior status than Hermione, either by heritage or other means. As he spoke it reminded Hermione more and more of the age-old bitterness and nastiness she believed that pale pointed blonde boy mustered towards her and her friends.

Similarly, Draco's dislike of Hermione had come back pretty much completely, viewing her as a shallow, daft, book-obsessed girl who still had no social life, and frequently ousted away her friends by being busy and too know-it-all and such a goody two shoes that she drove away all fun.

Draco had returned to his usual insults and classical rudeness, and Hermione her shrewd comments and thinly veiled criticism at his grades, his lack of morals, his complete and utter lack of character for a supposed member of the upper class, and how he was going to face the day where his father could no longer do anything everything for him, and he was going to suffer a miserable end with his own skills, (or lack thereof).

"I hate this room," he had said, one of his first words upon walking in. Truthfully, he hadn't taken a long took at it to decide he didn't like it, and then turned his nose up to stare at the ceiling, not keen on taking a further look. The ceiling was plain and undecorated, but a clean cream white, not showing any hint of distraction.

"I expect I shall hate it here," he said, reminiscent of his old Draco ways and the way in which he and Hermione spoke just hours earlier as they bade goodbye to each other at the Hogwarts end of the train journey. "Small flat, no cellar of wine, no balconies to act as a lookout for the skies. No quidditch, no magic. Your room...is tiny."

"At least it can house my ego."

"Touche. Boasting about physical limitations of your room that cannot host a larger ego. My room is large enough for two of me. You know, even my ego has an _ego_."

"Will you not shut up!?"

"There's no need to fear further conversation with me. You'll explain to your parents what went wrong, I'll have my own room in this place, write for my parents to ship me some entertainment, clothes. You'll leave your boring life, and there wouldn't be a need for us to talk for the entire summer. Then I'll buzz of to Hogwarts and that's the last you'll see of me," he finished with a satisfactory smirk at Hermione, who was momentarily lapsed into silence.

"A wizarding portkey can't be arranged, but you can arrange for your personal one-man-show of indulgences to arrive by mail?" said Hermione. Even though shortly after they reached her room, a beautiful black raven had swooped from the skies and sent towards Draco from an open window down the hall. Draco ordered Hermione to scribe out his reply back detailing the events and what was to happen as he proclaimed himself unused to the 'quill that's too poor for feathers' that he said he didn't know how to use.

'It's called a pen,' Hermione had snapped.

'Oh deary me, it can't even afford the name 'quill',' said Draco, before Hermione glowered at him and pointed out that his words were literally hanging by a thread, and who had the power now?

True to common sense, he did shut up after that. But all in all, the Malfoys had been rather thorough and speedy with their response to owl, and Draco had swiftly communicated back with ease, seeming to Hermione that really, he would have no problems importing his one-man-show of indulgences here.

"Wizarding portkeys transport people. But the magic is concentrated into an object as opposed to controlled from the individual. Surely you know ministry regulations? And anyways, it's just a bunch of inanimate objects flown by mail. Sure can be arranged," explained Draco.

For once he was right, thought Hermione, but wouldn't say so. They had then bickered a bit more, about this or that, the colour scheme and lack of engravings and decorations and chandeliers on Hermione's ceiling, even though Draco then rescinded with the observation that a chandelier would look out of place here anyway. With Hermione pointing out he was only judging the entirety of her (perfectly fine bedroom thank you very much) by the ceiling, and you could not and would not judge a room by just it's ceiling. To which Draco had aimlessly bickered that you could, and the very best rooms in authentic real estate of notable figures and places in history were indeed judged and auctioned of by their ceiling, and that didn't Hermione expect people to be judged by their brains in the top half of their body anyway? To which Hermione said she wasn't even sure if what he said was true, and to spare her the indignity of finding out, and so the arguments rose and the benign bickering continued, their voices raising high over the walls, lapsing into a very common and not at all unusual pattern for them, reminiscent of their Hogwarts days.

Then Hermione said she needed to go to the bathroom, Draco responded he did not and that she should excuse herself by all means. She left and returned with the news her parents were appearing up the driveway from her spy by the window at the end of the hall.

"I think they're coming," she had said, the sudden serious tone pulling them out of their usual lapses of bickering.

"What are you going to say? What are you going to tell them about me?" Draco seemed nervous.

"I think...it's best I go down first," said Hermione, absentmindedly pulling at a stray bit of hair that she always did when she was in thought, "and explain my return from Hogwarts. Then you come down, I'll introduce you as a guest and a friend and as someone that's staying for the entire summer holidays. We'll introduce you as a Hogwarts friend that shares some classes and intermingles with us Gryffindors-"

Draco gave her a look, as if to say 'you're the one that's always saying houses give no excuse to treat others like inferiors and differentiate you'.

"They're going to know you're from Slytherin eventually, it gives a reason for our acquaintance-"

"Are your...parents scary?"

Hermione stared at Draco. He was turning a touch more pale again, though she couldn't be sure whether it was just the lighting or not. He seemed to have briefly foregone his aversion to her room and had rested his hands on the back of a desk chair of hers recently, drumming his fingers over and over on the wood again.

"If you really are as you say, smart, ambitious, _proper_, Mr Draco Malfoy, then I daresay impressing who you deem to be ordinary people beneath you would be no task of serious worry then," pressed Hermione, flashing him a smile.

"I think...they're really here," said Hermione suddenly, upon hearing noises, before she grabbed Draco by the sleeve and pulled him down towards the stairs.

"Merde. Kill me when this is over," said Draco softly.

Hermione entered downstairs. It was darker than it was when she entered, though it had only been about an hour since she had first arrived home, maybe the sun had gone behind a cloud or something. Her parents were the same two people that she loved and grew up with and cherished, here, at home, unloading groceries and items from the shopping trolley. Her dad settling her trunk down not far from the table.

"Hermione!"

"Darling!"

"My sweetiepie!"

"Mummy, daddy?"

All three heads briefly came together and embraced, clutching at each other. Hermione just momentarily glad to be safe in her parents arms, away from Hogwarts, away from the storm that was brewing just a mere few steps down from the staircase, where the bottom of Draco's feet could be seen in view, unnoticed...as of now.

"And how was Hogwarts this year darling? You must tell us all over dinner," said her mum, continually unloading the seemingly large swathe of ingredients from the grocery bags.

"We bought a large spread just for this. Enough ingredients to have a good tucker," said her father, carrying some items to the fridge.

"So sorry for the tardiness of preparations. There was just some emergency work to be done on a patient at the dentist clinic we work at recently," explained her mother. Draco's ears pricked at that though he really had no idea what the profession was, though he knew it was a profession.

"Oh no, I hope it's nothing too serious," said Hermione, "Oh, this year was a good year. We got started on the advanced classes I was telling you about, and got to really explore the subject matters of arithmancy, runes, and transfiguration in depth! Some of my favourite classes! And my OWL results came back good-"

Mr and Mrs Granger and Hermione chatted a bit more. Draco noted from the sounds that it seemed they had a good relationship, and a certain amount of control and authority over Hermione and possibly, highly likely, him, as well. They seemed well mannered, prim and proper adults, and weren't too far from Draco's reminders of his mother, who frequently complained he didn't have enough 'important' social events, or didn't talk to the 'nice girls' or said he was sloppy in his day to day dealings.

They weren't people you wanted to cross. Mr and Mrs Granger. And beneath their benign exterior and friendly chatter, Draco didn't want to meet their bad side and see what that side was capable of.

"And I bought a friend here," said Hermione. Draco tensed, sensing it was almost his time to make an entrance. He was meeting the parents...of his captive host family almost, from this...accident on a one-way ticket. How...poignant.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. His palms were sweaty and he was so sure his hair was slick from sweat that he was a little concerned about his appearance, he couldn't help wishing that it was just _over_.

"Oh. Pygmy snuck into your trunk again? Good thing Crookshanks loves him," said his father, Crookshanks who had fallen asleep in a patch in the sunlight after hopping from the car where he had been stowed with Hermione's luggage suddenly got up, meowed and paddled around Mr Granger's feet. Before heading up the stairs and hissing at Draco as he surpassed him.

"Actually, mother, father, meet Draco Malfoy."

Even Draco had to give credit to how well Hermione masked the quiver in her voice as she said so, detecting just the slightest hint of nerves in her voice that he wouldn't have known if they hadn't debilitated to some extent the situation with her parents in her room in a time that felt like hours ago.

He walked down the stairs, aware of how the prematurely switched on living room lights bedazzled his eyes, clung onto his hair and illuminated the entirety of the blonde strands. The pale hollow face which had a splash of good colour clinging to the cheeks, eyes of the clearest blue-grey which could be seen. The mandatory Hogwarts school uniform, of course, purchased with the extra crest and school embellishments, the fact that he was almost at Mr Granger's height but not quite, his pose with his hands folded behind his back, legs evenly spaced apart and open stance.

Mr and Mrs Granger turned, looked, and stared, Draco willed not to falter underneath their gaze, and put on a hard, strong, bold exterior that said 'I am not afraid' (even though he was afraid of these 'dentists' and didn't know what they were or did), 'I am not jumping through hoops for you', 'show me your emotions first'.

The moment drew long, and then started to head south as the silence stretched, Hermione cleared her throat and jumped in with a beaming smile. "Mum, dad, I have a new friend who's staying over for the summer holidays. There was a little accident with his portkey on the way home, you know, portkeys are highly ministry regulated and officialised. It's an incredibly stringent and time-consuming process to go through them. Wizarding apparation has it's limits. Especially in remotely connected muggle areas such as ours. I think...there is no better remedy, than for him to stay for the holidays and then go back to school with me."

"My apologies. That must be incredibly hard for you. We'll find you a spot, as all appropriate for situations of this nature," said Hermione's mother after a pause.

"I always say teenagers need socialisation and more benefits from hanging with each other as opposed to spending their entire holidays alone. I hope you accomplish some meaningful things this summer holidays," supplied her father, "Please. Considering your situation, don't feel you trespass or overstay your visit."

"We're Jean and Daniel Granger, feel free to address us by our first names."

"Mrs and Mr Granger, I don't feel as if I could do you such injustice," Draco said, walking down the stairs and shaking hands slowly, "Thank you for your kindness and hospitality following what is an untimely and unexpected situation. I'm sure my parents will compensate you accordingly. What an eventful summer these three months shall be," he said, referring to the summer that stretched from June to first of September.

"You can count on it," said Mrs Granger.

"Jean and I have a number of interesting activities in mind," said Mr Granger.

"Why don't you go back upstairs with Hermione. She'll can show you the guest room, I'll bring some materials up to make it pleasant, and let us prepare dinner. We can talk further and bond more over a big celebratory dinner," said Mrs Granger with a smile.

"That would be wonderful, thank you," said Draco, nodding politely before being dismissed from the scene, where he headed up the stairs with Hermione by his side. Mr and Mrs Granger gazed at him sharply, then nodded in acknowledgement before continuing on their tasks as he walked up the steps, he felt their gaze settle on him and set as he walked up the very last step.

He looked at Hermione. "How did I do? First good impression or no?"

Hermione bristled. "All these years honestly Malfoy," she said, opening the door to the spare bedroom, which was at the furthest end of the hallway, away from her, and the doors which he presumed would open to Mr and Mrs Granger's rooms. Honestly, each bedroom not even having their own hallway, he thought to himself, but lacked the energy from this tiring day to air his comment vocally.

She attacked some old items, a laundry basket full of not old clothes, but other items and bits and bobs that her parents must have stored there, busily pulling them away from the room's innards and towards somewhere more appropriate outside. "I thought you lacked even the tiniest bit of maturity and politeness, with not even the graces of a common toad and yet..."

She reached out a hand, perhaps just to stretch and have something to do, perhaps to playfully hit him out of mock anger and rashness.

Instead, her hand didn't make contact with the firm longitude of his back, and the comforting feeling of bones beneath her palm to confirm it was indeed his back. Instead they met somewhere else, a little too down below to be innocent, a place parents warned you not to let others touch if you weren't 'sensibly married' to them.

It seemed the air leeched out from them. Momentarily icicles formed and died a slow and painful death as the seemingly cold atmosphere stayed for far longer than necessary. Draco paled. Hermione had her mouth open in an O and her face blushed. Draco blushed. The air grew colder still. He raised an eyebrow. Her hand had been long retracted now, but even then, something about the feel, something about the red hot burn of his warmth on her palm, or perhaps her warmth on his ass, remained.

Draco inhaled through uncharacteristically flared nostrils. Hermione looked away, coughed and cleared her throat. He followed suit with not a moment's more hesitation.

"So I made an okay first impression?" he chose that avenue of banter to go down.

"Well, you successfully stayed in the same room as my parents for five minutes, held a conversation and didn't send either of you to a lunatic asylum. Why yes, I do consider that 'meeting the parents' in this crisis situation successful, yes-" said Hermione.

"So everything's easy from here now right? It all flows from here. Dinner would be a piece of cake?"

"Yes I think the first impression went well...well, I have to go change and do things," said Hermione, "You best retire to your room for a bit. Try to get used to the setting-"

"A little bit of mise-en-scene," mused Draco.

"Yes...that. And...be prepared for narrower ups and downs," said Hermione with almost the barest hint of a smile at him, before she prepared to slam the door in his face and leave him to rot in his room while she got out and resumed what was to be her lovely first day reunion with her home had he not intruded and embedded himself in her life - even if unwittingly.

"I still hate you, you know," said Draco conversationally as he gripped the door handle, already preparing to have the glossy white doors mask him inside, a smirk on his face.

"I know. Feeling's mutual you know," said Hermione, "Besides the first few days where we may have to do things with each other. I really don't want more contact with you."

"Seconded. Just because we're living together in close proximity now, doesn't mean I'll magically turn over a new leaf for you and beg and grovel for your friendship on my feet," spat Draco, his blue grey eyes flickering at Hermione.

"I wouldn't expect anything different," she responded, and so the two briefly retired to their rooms before the adventures of this evening and beyond.


	3. Me? A dental assistant?

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 3: Me? A Dental Assistant?

Draco and Hermione both settled down in their rooms and whiled some time away whilst they waited for their parents to call them down to dinner. Draco spent most of the time looking at his surroundings and moving in slow circles around his room as he took things in, before going outside. There had been nothing too awful to critique in the spare room, nothing actually wonderful to praise, and all around, uninteresting and boring to the eye. That he passed away the time doing nothing, though a certain fiercy brunette dashed in his thoughts more often than he liked.

However, he left the room and was met with Hermione as they were about to head downstairs.

Hermione had changed out of her scruffy clothes (and threw quite a few items away, bringing just two or three changes of muggle clothes to Hogwarts for the whole year meant they were quite worn and torn) and into her normal clothes. Which weren't really flashy or glimmery, even by her standards, but they were perhaps a touch better than her old scruffy clothes.

Draco took a glance at her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, he had never quite noticed her before due to the shocking events of the afternoon, and the following chaos but something about her had changed since the last he saw her. Perhaps it was the fact that they were living in her own house, perhaps it was the environment, the attitude, but she seemed so much more at ease and calm and relaxed here than he'd ever seen her.

Her hair had been pulled back in a loose ponytail, wisps of misbehaving blonde and brown framing her face. She wore a dark chifflon pink blouse, an innocent and dressy thing for her parents, dark pink, made of flowy fabric, that cinched at certain places and hung loose at others with frills and flutters. Quite an exquisite shirt it seemed, obviously perfect for the occasion for a chattery first dinner back with her parents, but yet somehow, with him standing there and his presence, it made the blouse seem all wrong in a way Draco had not quite the words for describing yet. She wore a pair of unanimous, dark blue denim jean pants, which were quite nice, though Draco hardly supposed they were intended to be eye-catchy or trendy on the wearer. He couldn't help himself judging slightly as he saw her. Decent, but not at all the polished jewels his mother would have paraded in front of him at such party or house event or something, not the best outfit a girl could have.

Since when did you turn into such a gay man? Part of him grumbled to himself, stealing one last glance at her and her inquisitive smile before turning away. Truth to be told, he always took some notice of women. Women were like fine wine running through your fingers, some were great, others weren't so, some needed a little bit of sifting and searching through to find the diamonds among the coal. It's as if he had his mouth open at such an exquisite and lovely wine tasting affair, eyes of non-commitment as he sampled through everything and debated what he liked, what could be improved. It was a constant filter among all his other thoughts when things weren't too dangerous or worrisome for him. When things turned sour though, his mind was on other things.

A part of him had always noticed. He had tried telling Pansy her top would look better partially inclosed in items of clothing as opposed to pretty much running free with perhaps what he thought must be the tiniest strip of fabric to preserve her modesty, or what remained of it. But time and time had taught him those things were not to be said, and among discussions with Nott, one of his oldest and dearest friends, about women and wine, and all things adult, it was decided that that was a line of conversation you never ordinarily broached a lady about.

So he kept quiet about these things - always. Pushed it out the back of his mind, focussed on other things. But a part of him knew and was mentally categorising Hermione as 'not bad, decent, but needs improvement.'

He had wanted to visit the lavatory lest he required the urge during dinner. Hermione gave him instructions to the nearest bathroom and waited on the landing by the stairs lest he get lost, he came out and they talked. "So now that I've broken my way into your parents hearts, what exactly are we going to discuss through dinner?"

"You didn't break. You charmed your way in with a suck-up discourse not even I knew you had the capacity to do," said Hermione, holding his gaze.

"You admit. The perfect know-it-all Hermione has underestimated my abilities and overestimated her estimating capabilities in general," said Draco with a smile.

Hermione fixed him a glower, he quickly backtracked. "Come on, tell me what to say so I don't ruin a good first impression at dinner. Come on, I'm not asking for the sake of asking. It benefits the both of us as your life would be easier too this entire summer holidays if I got along with them," he said, his voice almost pleading.

Hermione sighed, but try as she might, she could not fault his logic. "Wow. The arrogant-ass, haughty snob Draco tries sucking up-"

Draco fixed her with his best doggy eyes, something he had masterfully practiced in the mirror being the Slytherin he was during his younger years - incredibly younger, it had worked on his mother at times - but not on his aunt Bellatrix, a simple fact that could save lives someday that he learnt through observation, he noted.

Hermione found herself unable to resist the doggy eyed stare, or perhaps just having some minute resemblance of power over him that perhaps the current situations called for. "If you want to remain on my parents good side. Just remember the three rules - Education, Aspiration, Properity. You're a motivated and dedicated student interested in what you're studying. You have no negative words to say about teachers unless they don't teach you enough-"

"Life must've been tough, being you," was all he said, possibly thinking of all the strict pressures Hermione may have grown up with that he wasn't aware of.

"Shut up. You can add not interrupting to the list too," she said.

"Continue then."

"Aspiration. You're interested and invigorated by the real world, and have clear career paths or aspirations you're interested in picked out in mind, and some knowledge of future foreign exchange programs, or internships you could do. It must be a decent aspiration. And last but not least, properity. No girlfriends, feelings, desires-"

"You're parents are against relationships?" It was quite a shock to Draco, even in the wizarding society then, considering the pureblood's stringent traditions of marrying soon, and marrying well, there was still ample room and tolerance for teenage relationships and experimentation. He could not think of one wizarding family besides his who would be so firmly opposed to relationships in the teenage years as to set a distinct rule not to, not many people at Hogwarts were like that, though some girls took more persuading than others to give up their post of singularity.

"Not quite, but they don't want to see a babbling fool who only thinks about girls and is permanently attached at the hip with their significant other," explained Hermione.

"Ah. So they dislike weasels among men," commented Draco.

"What did you say about my friend?" demanded Hermione, glaring.

"I was referring to the animal that digs itself in and out of predicaments and is generally a slimy and unmajestic being, not your...friend," Draco's eyes flicked disapprovingly at Hermione. Red hair, obnoxiously loud, conversation about food or engaged in a tongue-to-tongue battle with Lavender from the last few moments he'd run into Ron at Hogwarts, he certainly wasn't a fan of the man Weasley was, even if he didn't know him as closely as Hermione did. He inwardly shuddered at that, how could Hermione possibly know such a man that well and still be alright with it? A girl like her...he turned his mind away, that wasn't his concern and he didn't solve other people's problems, but a girl like her was fine wine too exquisite for such uncouth savourers.

"Not everyone revolves around you, Granger. Though I have to say, the similarities are unfortunate."

Hermione glared, "Just make small talk. Try not to screw up your first impression. Then leave me alone. I hope you make a fool of yourself."

"I trust my delightful charm and quick thinking to not," bantered Draco.

"Your quick thinking seems to have stopped at 'Hermione may not agree with my assertions about myself' and gone no further," she said.

Draco filed her a filthy glare.

Suddenly voices called. The two hurried down the stairs.

The rest of the evening passed relatively smoothly. The lights were on bright. As much as Draco swore to hate his close arrangement with her, her house, and what was to become of his life for the next three months, he couldn't help passing the thought that Hermione's place was really not as bad as it seemed. Muggle architecture was certainly different to wizarding architecture, that he remembered from the flashes of her neighbourhood as they bickered and argued their way through earlier that day. In the wizarding world, many of the older and more wealthier families such as himself, lived on inherited wealth, or 'old money' as it was called, and hence had historical ties to the land. Malfoy's parents personally owned many prominent residential establishments and more around Britain and several neighbouring countries, they had conquered the land through historical conquests and damn well would remember where it came from, and be motivated to hang onto it. Money from investments, and where there was a large capital, there was potential for a large gain, though the Malfoys had perfected the art of not squandering their wealth as evident through the centuries, and even he knew a few secrets to investment from his father, though his father had not yet taught him the full extent of his knowledge. So in the wizarding world, many of the old and wealthy families had lots of land, and their wealth and influence was determined by the historical significance or wealth of each land, not particularly any new or revolutionary shift in designs or architecture. Some of his friend's family mansions were...quite an atrocity if he were to be believed, but they were still good because they held a part over a prominent land or historical event.

Muggle architecture had been more squat. All houses looked the same and seemed to mirror one another. Like people didn't want to stand out. Passing through the neighbourhood nearly all the houses had the same structure, it was less obvious at first sight someone's internal wealth. The houses weren't that large, but they were slightly larger than the brief beliefs of what Draco thought houses to be. Mostly squat little bungalows and shabby brown heaths surrounded by wretched hags wearing patchy brown rags in the old picturebooks he had. 'Medieval muggle dwellings at the era wizards and witches separated from the mudbloods', the writing beneath the pictures in the picturebooks said. He couldn't help feeling that most of these houses probably had all the necessities a small family needed, even if it made a vein twitch and muscle pop to think about having to share all these utilities with so many people. He longed for the luxury of the Malfoy Manor. A copy of everything for one person, an entourage of maids and servants for every single person.

But it wasn't bad. The interior of Hermione's house had been sensible. Sensibly decorated, not at all a bad taste. Quite firmly middle class. He raised an eyebrow among his musings as he thought. Firmly middle class. So the girl whom he had been mocking and making fun of all these years was undoubtably...firmly, middle class in her world. He didn't take in any more of that. Houses and interior decoration weren't really his taste nor area of expertise, it was just unavoidable to be picking up sniplets if you've lived with Narcissa Malfoy all your life. But it wasn't bad. Mother would have more interesting things to say, but all he knew was that it seemed okay at his first inspection.

Most rooms were sensibly and quaintly decorated, a little bit of decoration but not too much, in quite nice locations. Her house wasn't really plain or blank, it was almost quaint. Including this one.

There had been a large overhead chandelier ceiling light above them. Not the real deal, he could tell it was fake and mostly likely made of different materials, but nonetheless, a decorative overheading lighting.

Which had been ramped up to full luminescence almost, for the meal. The kitchen was _bright_, and the light seemed to illuminate the table and the food with a pearly glow, then bounce of the walls and overall it was a very brightly lit kitchen.

The food was quite nice. It was different to Hogwarts, which tended to have large quantities of different variations of popular foods for all tastebuds, the older and more mature students, and the young ones with a sweet tooth. But it wasn't all that different from his average spread at home, considerably less fancy and narrower, but it wasn't bad. A lot of the items he hadn't the names for, but he supposed he would learn them later.

It was a decent spread, hearty amount of food. Cooked quite nicely. They walked and drank water (Mr and Mrs Granger didn't serve them any alcohol, he noted) and Draco just focused on eating as Hermione chattered with her parents about the school year. He tuned most of it out, it seemed like nice conversation anyhow, and they talked for quite a long time, occasionally flickering back at Draco to get his confirmation that so and so event did happen, or a second opinion on the things Hermione pointed out here and there. Draco foreigned agreement and a general placid stance, not particularly wanting to talk too much. All in all, it was a pleasant way to pass time, until it got to the interrogation on him, of sorts.

"So Hermione tells me you've shown remarkable abilities in, uh, potions I believe?" said Mrs Granger, "I believe it takes quite some dedication and concentration to do?"

"Just the right amount of attention to see it to perfect completion. No more, no less," said Draco, remembering the pointed comment his teacher Professor Snape had made at some point. He was momentarily glad he actually listened to Snape's long and arduous ramblings sometimes.

"How wonderful. See Hermione, when you write you always tell us how your potions didn't turn out quite right because you rushed it or overdid a certain part," said Mrs Granger, putting a forkful of lettuce in her mouth.

Hermione swallowed with a vein jumping in her temple and gave a polite smile.

"And what other subjects do you spend your dedication and attention on?" questioned Mr Granger, moving his knife through some steak.

Draco briefly explained the Hogwarts curriculum, trying to add some details about some of the subjects relevance to dark arts. He was certain they'd heard it all from Hermione and he wanted to bring something new to the table, he doubted Hermione told them the aspect of their relevance to the dark arts, though he was quick to call them the 'higher studies of more advanced interpretations of those subjects.'

"What a delightful young man," passed of Hermione's parents judgements, as they cut and gathered and moved their food to their mouths as the dinner went on. But as it went on, and her parents lapsed more and more into muggle talk, he started feeling out of depth and like he was guessing things to say.

"And what are your career plans after Hogwarts? Youth employment is harder and harder to find these days, people are finding it difficult to get started without internships or university linked programs. What university are you planning on?"

"Oh. I'm sure I'll find something from jumping about my interests, breaks of interesting studies here and there, get involved with the industry you know, you never know what might become of life," murmured Draco, truthfully having very little meaning of what some of those terminology quite meant.

"Not a bad attitude. You know, Richard's son George, wasn't it, is considering the same thing. That's why they have double degrees these days, don't they? More areas of expertise within one degree," said Mrs Granger.

Draco frowned and nodded along.

"Have you had any work experience? Those sort of experiences are highly looked up to and valued in employer's," said Mr Granger, "Many youngsters start gathering work experience and other relevant experiences in their highschool days."

Truthfully, Hogwarts was a little blank on the work experience section, having not offered much real insight into different careers in the last few years besides a 'career advisor meeting with the heads of house' that cycled through each student within the first week back in fifth year with in a span of about thirty minutes each.

"Um yes, gathering work experience is incredibly important to me. It's an experience I would not want to forgo," said Draco dumbly, having little idea of what he was saying.

Hermione was firmly avoiding all eye contact and chewing nonchantly out of the corner of his eye.

"What's your personal status like? Going out? Engaged-"

"Jean!" exclaimed Mr Granger.

"What? You wouldn't believe how young some people start these days-"

"No," said Draco.

"Sired a child out of wedlock-"

"Jean!" exclaimed Mr Granger once again.

"What? You wouldn't _believe _how young some people start these days-"

"No," responded Draco.

"I'm ever so much an eligible bachelor," he said, referring to the fact that he was currently single.

"What an interesting young man," said Mr Granger.

"Yes, you never tell me half as much about your interesting classmates Hermione," tutted her mother absent mindedly, and then resuming chatter on other things with Hermione. Draco was glad he escaped all of it.

"Oh and by the way Draco, you're firmly believe that work experience is important and that a young student such as yourself should take all opportunities offered right?" asked Mr Granger.

Mrs Granger nodded, sipping her wine as she remarked Draco over the rim of the glass.

"Why yes, it is everything I stand for," said Draco, going along with the flow.

"Well then! You must volunteer as an dental assistant at our dental clinic," said Mr Granger.

"Daniel's dental surgery is rife with new patients and interesting experiences that a young student such as yourself could benefit from," said Mrs Granger.

"Two weeks. Sometime between July and August. We do offer the experience to local students who are interested and bursting to get in. But considering your unfortunate predicament, we'll provide you the opportunity and overlook fellow competition from students applying for that spot. Half-time. We'll provide you with a uniform and all. It shall be interesting," said Mr Granger.

Draco immediately paled and turned almost so white he could give St. Nicholas a run for his money.

"Yes mummy and daddy, he'd love that," said Hermione almost instantly, a smile to his face, "His greatest strengths are charm and quick thinking on his feet."

Draco groaned inwardly. Him? A dental assistant? Oh what had he gotten himself into?

"How wonderful! We shall see to the arrangements immediately. And Hermione, we must give you money to buy him some new clothes. Take him to the appropriate isle and see him with some more...muggle clothes I believe it would be called Daniel?" said Mrs Granger.

"Yes that's the right word honey," said Mr Granger, and the two clinked their glasses and laughed. Hermione laughed with them.

Later...

"What...is a dentist?" hissed Draco Malfoy, backing Hermione into a wall in his desperation.

She just laughed, placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away. Draco flinched.

"It seems like you'll have to learn how to use the internet and google _honey_," she said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

Draco glowered, "So those are the tools to succeed at the profession," he said, not getting across the idea that they were encyclopedia tools to find the definitions of things, "And where do you hide your internet and google?" he asked, and was met with Hermione's evil laughs, and even worse...her evil silence.

'You'll see," she said, "oh look. An owl has arrived from your parents," motioning to the rapidly darkening sky, where just the faintest of a black silhouette was seen flying through the sky. Followed by several more blurs of bodies as the full ensemble arrived, dripping with that Hermione thought of as 'the items of the rich and the prosperous' flying towards them.


	4. A Surprise Hitchhiker

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 4: A Surprise Hitchhiker

Indeed, the owls arriving with an ensemble of Draco's comfort clothes, entertainment, toiletries such as toothbrushes and the like, had arrived, along with a letter from his parents.

It had fully turned dark now. A mere hour or so before they had to sleep. Mr and Mrs Granger were cleaning up downstairs, having insisted that Hermione and Draco go get some rest, that it was her first day back, and also insisting that Hermione must give him a proper tour of the house at some time to show him around. To which Hermione inwardly bristled but hid it with a smile.

The owls were coming in their heavy numbers, carrying large black objects against the sky. "Goodness, did you honestly have to fetch for so many things?" asked Hermione, a grimace in her eyes.

"My owls..." was all that Draco said, obviously happy.

"If you want to retrieve your items, you're best of getting them downstairs in the yard," said Hermione, "They wouldn't be able to fit all of that through a window."

"Right," said Draco.

Minutes later they were downstairs, in the gloom of what he supposed was Hermione's 'yard' or something. A sign lit up from the lights indoors saying '10ft' hung over what was obviously a body of water, glimmering with the reflections of the light indoors.

"Your lake's tiny," said Draco, wrinkling his nose. The owls dropped their packages around him, bowing their tiny heads, before flying off. The one carrying the letter stayed. The wrapped parcels had fallen on the grass and Draco was going around, taking his time picking them up. Hermione somewhat absentmindedly helping.

"It's not a lake, it's a swimming pool," said Hermione, "The designer designed it out of strong and waterproof materials to be able to hold water in a cubic square. So you could swim in it."

"You have this shitty replica of the real thing?" said Draco incredulously, "You built this tiny enclosure and then stole some lakewater from a lake to fill it as a mimic of the real thing?"

"Oh I'm sorry. Not everyone can just 'buy a lake' when they want to go swimming," snapped Hermione.

"This place doesn't look like it contains many lakes to sell," said Draco bluntly. The last of the non-letter carrying owls left, and then it was just the two of them, and a large black raven standing still with a letter in a carrier, in it's mouth. The owl wore a miniature owl-shaped travelling cloak with the Malfoy family crest engraved on a badge on the right lapel of the cloak. Hermione felt a bit sick looking at it. It's fur was extremely glossy and well-groomed, like they hired a personal groomer. She imagined how weird it would be find out you were hired in the role of the owl hairstylist.

"Well if they're only available near you I wouldn't want to buy one and be your neighbour," stated Hermione matter of factly. They had gathered a fair quantity of the items between them, and were heading up to Draco's room. It would most likely take another trip or so to completely grab everything.

"You couldn't if you tried, the surrounding land to the Malfoy Manor has been bought out under our name for the next 10 miles," he said.

"What for? In case one Manor's not enough, so I'll just reserve some space to hiddily-diddly-do build another," mocked Hermione, bumping the items on his bed. They were mostly going to place the items on the bed, table, and back of the room for now, before they went downstairs to get some more items.

"To prevent fools from thinking that's a nice piece of land, I'll buy it, and then having the itch to build a castle or residence there. Ruins the view. Especially if it's not even a decent residence. Imagine a tramphouse," said Draco, giving of a shudder.

Hermione snorted, "Typical. So you purchase the surrounding blocks of land just to prevent having neighbours?"

"That's exactly what we do," agreed Draco, "a simple solution to an age-old problem."

"Just wait til you see _Eccentric Homeowners_ on cable," said Hermione.

"Just wait til you see Nott's Manor," rebuked Draco.

"The question is. Will I even be able to see it from my vantage point standing on the last jurisdiction of land that is not owned under Nott's name?" said Hermione.

"_No_. And that's the beauty of privacy. The other unexpected benefit of having a clear skyline," said Draco. They settled down some more wrapped boxes and the like in his room before going down for the last trip. Hermione noted they had a dark, almost a mixture of emerald and marble rich wrapping paper, dark green, almost inky black, ribbons whose tensile strength looked far magically enhanced from average, and the same professional Malfoy family crest stapled on it. She felt like snorting and also cursing him for being such a damned, haughty little rich boy all at the same time. The Malfoys _really_ knew about image and appearance it seemed.

"I'll help you unwrap things," offered up Hermione when all of it was there. Draco took a look at the room, which was heartily filled up with an ensemble of his own clothes and items, currently in unnamed and unmarked packages all wrapped with the same unanimous paper and ribbon. It took up quite a lot of space, and when uncovered and properly stowed away, would be enough to give the room some character and almost like another person was living in it. It was nothing compared to what he had at home, a tiny, tiny, miniscule portion of his belongings. But it was enough to make the summer slightly more bearable at least. He took one last took at the long pile of items sent that was meant to last him three whole months, and thought himself smart to take up the offer. "Sure, you can start there," he said, nodding to a pile he was certain were the shoes and more exterior clothing items. He tackled the more personal items that he would be the one choosing where to place them about the room, him being the only one who could see into his head and know _exactly_, where he wanted it.

"I still hate you," said Hermione, picking apart some wrapping with her nails, "And this holiday. I wouldn't enjoy it."

"Me too. As if you think anything's improved at all," shot back Draco.

"My parents may take to you for the time being, but don't think I do too," exclaimed Hermione, "What did you ask all these dastard items for anyway?"

"Shoes. Clothes to lounge in comfort. Obvious toiletries. Posters. Books. Momentos. Food. I'm without my usual sweets," he said, "My parents also sent some parchment and quills, huh I didn't ask. But I don't take to your pen so-"

"You. Are a brat," said Hermione.

"Just keep unwrapping and get out. It's a deal that suits both of us!" snapped Draco.

"There's one more package," said Hermione softly, her eyes flickering to an oddly shaped bundle attached to the box of nighttime toiletries by a piece of string. It seemed hastily secured and had lain hidden beneath a pile of wrapping paper and who knows what else while they unpacked.

"Wonder what this could be. I didn't send for this," he said, "I specifically dictated in the letter. All items to come in boxes."

"Maybe this one came the same way you did. Accidental portkey," snapped Hermione.

"It'll be fine wine or something. Aftershave you would wish was yours from the glorious smells your puny little nose can detect," he said savagely, ripping open the unexpected package that really, had been tackled onto the end of another package.

The once strong green wrapping paper gave way under his fingers, Draco's mouth split into an O, as a rotund brown furry face was revealed beneath the wrapping paper. Smiling a satisfied smile at the whoever would chance to glance upon it.

"Your teddy came," said Hermione with a snicker, cracking up.

"What is this." Draco's face was growing more and more white by the minute, then red, "I didn't send for this! This is blasphemy!"

Hermione only laughed some more, "Beware who you piss of while they're holding the power of the pen over you."

Draco stared up at her. The last of the wrapping fell away from his motion and the bear's full body came into view. It was adorned in an outfit of a miniature black cloak with a black hood.

Draco stared at the letter he wrote originally which his parents had attached to confirm he received everything he asked for. He read the lines from where he was dictating things to Hermione to write to his parents.

_I'm in a difficult situation and I expect I shall need a few essential items to get buy - shoes, the entire first compartment of my wardrobe, my posters, telescope, the books I left on my bedside table, bath salts, the obvious toiletries, and whatever else entertainment or items you think I need to survive this summer in a box. I prefer all my items sent in boxes please. By the way, send my teddy. There is nothing greater than the comfort of an old childhood friend._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

"Granger!" exclaimed Malfoy.

Hermione just laughed an evil laugh at his stupid gaping mouth, which was _still _opening and closing in shock. He looked absolutely ridiculous, she thought.

The letter that it was attached to, his parents response, fluttered from it's spot by the table, and fell on the floor, revealing a section of the loopy cursive response that was scribbled back.

_Certainly. It is an incredibly tricky situation neither your father nor I have been in. We wish you all the luck with getting through and have done our best to incorporate your wishes of items, and of course, once again it is an extremely tricky situation and neither your father nor I have been in your shoes. I dug around the old boxes in the spare rooms at your request. I'm a little surprised you still have attachment to such a passing item in your youth, but nonetheless, Barthellow is happy and excited to go on this journey with you!_

_Love,_

_Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy_

_Mother and Father_

"No. I didn't send for a teddy. I haven't seen it when I was six. I never liked it anyway! It couldn't be charmed to move unlike my other toys because it's furry exterior confused the domesticated african pitbulls we had at that time!" he exclaimed, turning it over and over, and then finally tucking it systematically between his arm and chest as he decided what to do with it.

Hermione, had long left the room and had returned with a small black object in her hand. "Say cheese!" she said.

"Where?" asked Draco.

Next second Hermione was flashing a long and gaggling evil laugh. Over and over again, just when it ended it started again; absolute hysterics, like she really had something.

Draco, was starting to dislike that laugh. He was also starting to want the play pin the Hermione up against a wall and intimidate her to stop her silly laughing.

When all of a sudden, Mr and Mrs Granger walked in, carrying a wad of what Draco presumed was muggle money in their hands. "Hermione, we came upstairs to give you some money," explained her father, "to go clothes shopping with him tomorrow. He would need I suppose 'muggle wear' to fit into our neighbourhood," he said, motioning to the clothes his parents sent him, which were mostly an assortment of comfortable robes and other dressy materials.

"No, this won't do," said Mrs Granger, looking at the items, "I would not allow him to wear these clothes even inside the house. It screams different and is incredibly dangerous, given the situation. He needs full muggle wear. And those moving posters won't do either. They're not normal. Neither is that telescope really. Full muggle wear or he won't survive this summer. I shall write back to his parents!" she said, "Some of these items are unacceptable. You do realise you have to send them back, right Draco?"

Draco paused, admittedly, he didn't particularly see the err in their logic. "I understand," he finally said, a little nervous admittedly.

"Wonderful. Oh, you bought your teddy! Isn't it simply adorably sweet!" said Mrs Granger, catching sight of it. Draco's arm had hid most of the bear's adornment of the black hood and cloak. The two Grangers clasped hands and awwed together for a moment or too.

Draco was torn between two worlds. Wanting to say something but not wanting to admit he had ticked Hermione of enough to do that. He stayed still and tried to plaster on a smile.

"Doesn't this just remind you of the set we got for the Fabrioarchi triplets last christmas," cooed Mrs Granger.

"Yes, they had a set of three, just in the same adorable teddy bear plush as this one," said Mr Granger. And so they cooed a bit more, and talked about how wonderful it was to see youngsters 'turn to positive influences to cope with stress, not the negative ones you read about in the paper' and a little bit more and this or that before they went away.

Draco stared at Hermione once their door closed.

"The triplets are not my age are they?" he asked.

"No they're not," said Hermione with a coy smile as she shook her head.

"They're quite possibly, very far from my age, is that right?"

"You have no idea how much."

And with that Draco groaned and sank his head briefly in his hands, before Hermione told him it was getting late, she had a long day from coming home from Hogwarts, and that she was going to sleep and leave him be. And so he turned away, deciding to place the surprise hitchhiker on a shelf far away from him in the room, so he didn't have to bump into it or accidentally trip over it as he went about, and stared, at the room, the strange lights, the semi-unpacked items taking up the space in the guest bedroom, the sense of unfamiliarity drifting through the doors, once the toiletries had been done and he was in bed with the company of the impeding gloom of sleep.

His mind felt tired, his head felt heavy, his brain was buzzing with all the events from today. And how things simply, turned south, when he touched the incorrect portkey and it sent him there. A one-way ticket he couldn't go back. He let his eyes wander over the room before he fell asleep, the unfamiliar and the familiar, reflecting, over the day's events still.

The surprise hitchhiker stared innocuously at him from the dark.

"Oh screw Granger," he muttered, turning over and punching the pillow.


	5. Of Green Flowers With Purple Leaves

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 5: Of Green Flowers with Purple Leaves

Draco awoke early next morning. Never had he slept in a room so close to a tree that the birds chirping outside was enough to pull him from his stupor. There were birds in the surrounding forest to the Malfoy Manor at home. Probably a far greater amount and diversity than the birds here, for where there were forests, there was inevitably much more birds, but they were far away. The nearest land to the Malfoy Manor had been cleared and it almost appeared as if not a single tree dared to grow on it. There had been no trees up near windows. It would have been a nuisance. Except for maybe decorative trees. But even then, a decorative tree this far from the forest would not have housed much birds, so Draco had never had to be in such close proximity to birds before. Coupled with the heavy drapes he could pull across his bedroom window which blocked out 90 percent of the noise he'd never had quite this experience.

The tree outside his window was a mere few metres from his face, there were birds that occasionally hopped on the branches and gave of loud chirping noises and this one woke him. He groaned and hoped the other days weren't quite like that.

But he was awake now.

He had gotten up, reread the letter his parents sent him. Apparently they had spoken to the ministry and got it all sorted out. The Grangers and him were to depart about a week before school was to be in succession, travelling to a spot typically used for portkeys (and this one would definitely be right, the ministry confirmed) where he would then travel to Malfoy Manor, giving him about a week to pack his trunk and get ready for school. His parents had apparently written to the Grangers in an owl addressed to them, about the predicament, their sincere apologies, and offered to pay for all costs regarding his stay. Mr and Mrs Granger had tried to refuse in their quickly drafted reply back yesterday it seemed, but the Malfoys could be insisting when they wanted to be, and the money had a way of finding it's way to their account.

Mrs Granger had apparently come to his room early in the morning with some extra quilts, a water container and a glass of water, and anything else he would need to make the duration of his stay comfortable. Mrs Granger had loaded the items in his room, took the objects that would break rules (apparently the ministry was very stringent that he remain hidden) and sent it back to the Malfoys via post. This had all been written on a card next to a plate with a fancily decorated cookie on it by the bedroom table. It was kind of motherly in a way. And it really was it. All the arrangements had been made. Everything was set and finalised.

He really was going to have to explore the muggle world with none other than Granger as his best guide.

Speaking of guide.

He needed a shower. And quickly too. The last he remembered showering was the day before yesterday, and it grossed him out. He knew technically, he wouldn't be smelling like filth and looking like shit, it had only been one day, but he was intending on taking one should he arrive home, and after the drastic events of yesterday, and probably breaking out into a sweat several times along the process, it really felt absolutely gross to not have one.

Problem was. He didn't know where the bathroom was. Or the layout of the house really. It was all still so new to him.

Back at home, he thought wistfully, you would never have to worry about finding the bathroom because most rooms came with their own ensuite. Honestly, that's half the point of ensuites, he thought, so guests wouldn't have to stumble to find the bathroom.

His Hogwarts robes had been seized by Mrs Granger, some of his brown or black pants that his parents had sent made it through. A lot hadn't. He stared at the meagre clothing items in his possession. He really would have to go shopping for real with Hermione Granger. There wasn't all that much left to adorn himself with. In the end, he decided to stay in his pyjamas.

His mother had sent him three sets. They were some of the only clothes Mrs Granger didn't seize. There had been a dark dark purple, almost black, satin robe which reflected the light and had golden drawstrings and embroidery around the side. He wore that among the cooler winter nights at the Malfoy Manor, and it had been one his most frequently worn pyjamas, though it wasn't something he would wear to a sleepover at Notts or with Crabbe or Goyle or anyone. Even he suspected they had not the taste for it, he thought. It had been on the outermost rack where he kept his most frequently worn pyjamas in this walk-in wardrobe, so he supposed that was why his mother grabbed it. Another was a handsome emerald green set, that was white with soft emerald green stripes running vertically up and down the pyjamas. That was one of his favourites and what he thought looked quite handsome on him.

The other was a grey set. Baggy grey sweatpants like material with a grey button-up top that was made of the same light fabric as sleepwear. Except the top had a magical tag that wouldn't be removed and at the age he first received it, he hadn't bothered to complain to his parents, so that grievance was never aired and he often wore that set without the top. As he was wearing now.

He stared at himself in the face mirror Mrs Granger had bought into his room. He was undressed from the neck down to the hip, the white band of the sweatpants clinging there, and then the slightly baggy material of the bottom drawing down to his feet. He had always been rather lean, so there he was, tall, with sharp and pointed elbows, a lean flat chest and abs. He had packed on some muscle since he seriously buckled down and started playing for real in third year, having viewed second year as a mostly 'get back at Potter' affair and free trial, and not been too keen about the game itself back then. Between third year and now, his arm and chest was slightly more muscular than everywhere else on his body.

Quidditch was a strenuous game, and the practices had been incredibly tough, even though it had been months since he lasted played. He flexed. Still got it.

Then he left to find the bathroom, towel in hand.

The minute he opened the door though, expecting to see an empty hall, he saw Hermione, up and dressed and about to make her way downstairs.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, a little angry he wasn't to get his peace and quiet. It was too early in the morning to see, talk, or hear Granger again.

"I always rise and shine early in the holidays," she said, "there's no point wrecking your sleeping timetable just because it's the holidays."

"What a tiring life. I usually sleep til noon."

"Does your mother really all-"

"When I get to," he replied.

"So what are you doing up? Seeing as this is hours before your usual time?" asked Hermione.

"Your birds woke me. They chirp too close to the window," said Draco.

"It's a decorative tree. Jacaranda. You should see the purple flowers in the summer. Anyway, my parents placed it so the guest bedroom's window would get a good view of a bough," she said.

"Purple," Draco said, and stared at Hermione, his nostrils slightly flaring. "I don't like flowers and when I do, I prefer them green."

"Green?" Hermione was momentarily puzzled, "How do you even distinguish them from the leaves of the tree?"

"Buy flowers with non-green leaves. Say they had purple leaves..."

"I give up!" said Hermione, exasperated, "By the way, if you're ever seriously concerned, they don't chirp next to the window usually. You just caught them on a bad morning-"

"Shower," said Draco.

"What?" asked Hermione, confused.

"Where's the shower? In case you haven't noticed, I haven't showered for a day and a half."

"Oh. Right. I have yet to give you the tour, then I could leave you alone."

Draco stuck a tongue out at her.

Hermione breathed in, held her breath and pinched her nose, breathed out, and tried to ignore the babbling buffoon standing opposite her best as she could. "It's this way-"

Draco opened the door fully as he left to follow her, and the wooden panel of the door fell away to reveal him, chiseled and in his underwear pretty much, standing with one arm still around the door slightly as he waited to follow her need.

Hermione swallowed, suddenly feeling very hot, and like this endeavour with her number one public enemy - Draco Malfoy - couldn't get any worse. But she supposed he had to shower and it wasn't odd that he was asking her. Really, all the unexpected things that came from this predicament. "Follow me," she said, leading him down the hallway and into the arc where the bathroom was. He filled her in on the message her mother had left, and pretty much all the important information his mother gave him regarding their circumstances.

She nodded.

"You'd have to go without me," said Draco Malfoy, "I don't have any other clothes at the moment."

"How unfortunate. I'll go buy an outfit, you can shower and have breakfast. There's breakfast foods on the wall side of the kitchen table and in the fridge. I'll come back, you can change into the outfit and we'll go shopping for the rest of your entire muggle ensemble together."

"Can't I go alone?"

"You'll get lost. Muggle department stores are no joke. How do you get your clothes anyway? Ordering them?"

"Sort of. I have to visit the tailor in person once first. But when they have my measurements, I can order their line whenever. My mother takes me in-store for fittings and immediate purchases sometimes. Or she buys things for me in stores when she sees them," he replied, "I usually decline and leave the vacation boutique shopping to herself."

"Well you're going to have a heck lot of fun in a muggle shopping centre," said Hermione, "Lots of stairs. Busy lights. Bustling people everywhere. Lifts and elevators seemingly nowhere, shoppers squeezed and squashed, parents losing their children, phone batteries dying, avoiding salespeople, the muggle shopping experience is quite an experience."

"I'd hate that," he said before he disappeared into the bathroom.

"Typical. Men, you know," said Hermione softly to the blank door.


	6. The First Outfit

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 6: The First Outfit

Hermione grabbed a portion of her parents money that she would need for the trip, not particularly wanting to carry excess cash, and told her parents where she was going, explaining just enough of the predicament to them so they understood, and telling them that Draco was currently in the shower, she had mentioned to him where he could get a meal, but to reiterate it to him again lest he forgot. Although Draco was her worst enemy at school, she still didn't want him to feel unwelcome or not told the necessary things to settle down, or 'done dirty' if it was the best way to put it, because it was just unfair. He may have been the number one person she hated for a number of years, and the first person to come to mind at the thought of an 'enemy', a 'bad person', someone whom she 'didn't get along', but it hadn't been his fault to be in this situation either. Just one touch of a portkey, glimmering in the sunlight with the false hope of returning home, having it gone wrong and then...this. It was an awful injustice that wasn't really his fault in any way, so she supposed she ought to do her best to keep him comfortable and provide all the necessities he should need, food, clothing, shelter, privacy, silence. She imagined it were the opposite way around (which it could very well be, knowing that an accidental portkey could very well happen to her at the same chance), she would god-forstaken want her privacy in that stupid manor of his otherwise she'd start screaming in her mind and might never stop. Inwardly, she wondered if Draco would give it to her, how he would treat her should she become trapped at his manor for a summer. But that just proved too traumatic, with thoughts of his schoolyard taunts and under-the-skin comments which really did, get under her skin and make her itch and almost burn with a fury, rising up that she forced herself to shut it of. Not wanting to dwell on it.

She headed out of the house once she bade goodbye to her parents, and began walking to the mall. She was halfway to her license, having been legally allowed to take it several months before her 16th birthday, which was coming up in about a week's time. Getting a car and being able to drive was a huge deal in the muggle world. Hermione had always been aware of the muggle driving age, and was proactive the moment she ticked a second into the legal age requirement. She had taken some driver license papers with her to Hogwarts, and the moment the date came, she sent the papers which she had filled out at some point throughout the year, to the car centre near her house, and got the first portion of her license.

The second portion was a stage where you were allowed to drive a car, but only with a fully licensed person in the car with you. Which meant she didn't really have her license yet. Though she had started driving about.

In the summers of her youth, her parents had taken her on camping trips, hiking trips, skiing, vacations overseas, a huge number of trips and a fair few had been in a farm or rural environment. Where her father had said she was 'growing up' and 'getting into a big girl' and offered to let her drive around the farm buggy, or the grass tractor, and she had learnt the basics of driving then. Well, now all she needed was some proper lessons with her parents, or at least a test drive around an actual car car, with perhaps the occasional corrections, and then she could basically drive in reality. Though on paper, she would be needing a few lessons from qualified centres here and there. Urgh, hours to do and qualifications to fill.

Technically she felt she could drive a car from her house to the local mall, but in reality, and also as she could not borrow the presence of either one of her parents (full license holders) she had to make the trip on foot.

It was tiring walking through the small suburb that was her home all these years. The sun was out, but it was a cloudy day, and instead the shade fell in glitches and gleams all around her, scattering on the ground and reminding her of almost walking through a matrix. Maybe one that was glitching, she thought, remembering the movie as she saw the sombre blue shadows reflected on the ground from the tinted windows of stores leading to the large department store that was coming up at the main street.

She had loved Hogwarts. Loved it's entirety. Loved it's students. Loved it's subjects (of course). Of being able to learn magic. Her friends Harry and Ron. Though Ron was really...sometimes...but she pushed it out of her mind.

That was great. That was fun. But there was a side of the muggle world that she missed, and a part of her craved.

Hermione was had never been popular at her muggle school, disliked at times. But she did bump into her old classmates once or twice through the years as they all lived in the same suburb, and they exchanged pleasantries and talked enough that she had an idea of what the muggle life was like, and what they were spending their time doing these days.

Alcohol. Clubbing. Staying in a rented penthouse and getting buzzed on the afters well into the morning. All these experiences she had been previously adverse to, being good-girl Hermione Granger, but there was a sort of sadness that this was an area of complexity she was missing out, and times were achanging. It was a sombre puzzle piece in her life which was neither filled at Hogwarts nor here, and to which neither Ron nor Harry really, were the right puzzle piece for.

She sometimes wondered what she was going to do once her Hogwarts days were over. Stay in the wizarding world or return to muggle life? The point of Hogwarts was to give wizards and witches the opportunity to learn how to control their magic. It wasn't meant to be a permanent stay in the wizarding world. They had extended the invitation by giving muggle-borns an entire 6 years of schooling experience but...her parents said had always said it wasn't a bad idea to get a proper muggle education as a backup, but they supported her no matter what. Hermione had been thinking of pursuing further wizarding education immediately after graduation as it was probably easiest to enter, and then perhaps returning to the muggle world to study something in university and get a university degree plus some experience, before truly making her choice. But if she did that, what would be the chances of keeping touch with her wizarding friends? She doubted Harry wanted to return to the muggle world, and Ron...she didn't even want to think about introducing him to the muggle world.

The lights grew dimmer as she neared the shopping centre, the silvery mirrors stopped reflecting the sheer of the sun up close, and she was met with the cold, imprisoning, exterior of the shopping centre complex, made of glass and fibreglass and who knows what else.

She took a deep breath, before stepping over the threshold and entering, wandering around a little aimlessly before she was to begin. It was a quiet day, being so close to the beginning of the holidays where most families were complete again after having the schooling population of their family be let out from school. The other shoppers besides her were mostly women and young children.

She wandered about, looking for something Draco might like to wear. If there was something he'd like to wear. She had no idea his fashion sense in the muggle world, really. Or at all really, or whether he even had a regular preference for a collection of clothes that all fit a certain style.

She wandered about in the mall, thinking over the last few days and letting her mind touch on pools of memories, as she tried to find something for Draco. He was so arrogant, and haughty, even here, where he was presumably the furtherest from the only world he had ever known. She hated his easy-going arrogance, the way he automatically assumed he was the best and put himself forward. The forthright and domineering nature that he had of making his opinions and tastes well known. He had been arrogant at Hogwarts too. All day, everyday. Always believing himself best, always interrupting should a 'lesser' person be speaking, which was pretty much everyone. The way he carelessly flicked his glance away from people he didn't give a shit about, and how she watched as Crabbe and Goyle, or whomever his friends were, pretty much iced them out or froze them out of the class, the secret club, the coup, entirely. How shit they treated people beneath their feet, and most alarmingly - the relative ease at which they got away with it.

His careless glance. His casual arrogance. The way he tossed his own personal preferences here and there like they dictated everything. The way he sauntered through life. Untouched, by seemingly the small teenage problems and self-confidence issues everyone else had.

He was arrogant. Arrogant to the nines. Arrogant here as well. The way she could tell he was just jumping to make fun of her house, the nasty comments he had gave so far, the lofty arrogance at which he looked at her, and probably, most likely, the sneer and 'totally beneath me' look he would complete once she bought him the clothes and he'd truly settled into her home after perhaps a week or too, and then the total silence, as he'd lock himself up in his room and do whatever. Or talk to his friends via owl. Or spend time with his entertainments. And generally ignore her and the situation until it was all over, not wanting anything to do with it. A sneer and casual arrogance he wore so effortlessly well on his smirking frame.

She hated that. And he seemed to think he was god's gift to everyone. This was at Hogwarts but even more so here. Rich, handsome, sparkling with charm. It was half nauseating, but a simple sort of arrogance he had so well. He seemed to genuinely think he was good, everyone's dream. She hated that.

And the fact that he'd probably rub it in her face even more once he realises basically all the male models and mannequins for clothes looked like him.

She wanted to scream.

She'd been walking around aimlessly for the first twenty minutes or so, and nearly _all _the advertisements or models, depicted a skinny blonde or brunette teenage girl, with lanky male models of matching looks. Though it was obvious the blonde hottie was the focus. A blonde guy smirking at the camera as he wore the latest streetwear. A group of darkly haired guys holding secondary poses around sportswear, and a handsome teenage guy with a crop of blonde hair as the centre of the focus, standing the tallest and straightest out of all of them. All the mannequins too. You could tell the ones closest to the centrepiece or main attraction of whatever summer wear store or specialist easy-convenience shopping had mannequins with the fun blonde, almost platinum white in some cases, wig. And the ones in the corners had a dishevelled brown wig, or a molding black one among the sticky cobwebs and who knows what else.

She felt irritated as she imagined (or didn't even want to imagine) his lofty smirk and the things he might say. She wandered about some more. It was relatively empty at the mall today, which just seemed to irritate her more, as she felt if he were there with her, then about 50% or 30% of the company she'd seen that day would be filled by him and have his exact views, like there was no other sane person around.

"Oh, this won't do!" she exclaimed after a while, and turned some mannequins around, or shifted them to less conspicuous spaces of the store. She pulled scrolling advertisements up, and then swapped the blonde wigs on the mannequins for...black and shining red wigs. The red wigs weren't hard to find. There was an excess in what she called the old lady perm section, where ambitious middle-aged women went to get their hair dyed from a previous dye job of ashen black, or perhaps black and white, into the glossiest, and most no#1 likely to accidentally blind someone should a glare of sunlight come across it and get reflected into your eyes, auburn.

She smirked at her work. If it would shut his ego up, she wanted him to think the muggle epitome of attractive was apparently...Harry and Ron. Then, she got a pair normal of glasses from the clearance sunglasses section of the store, and popped it on the black haired mannequin, and shifted it's pose into a thinking pose with one hand on the hip, a sort of haughty and arrogant pose itself. She moved another black haired, glasses mannequin so it was tipping an imaginary top-hat at the watcher. This was good, she thought with a mischievous glint in her eye. She beamed at her work.

Then, she went into a store. Not sure what to buy. A salesperson who had previously been tidying the shelves made herself available. "Hello, how may I help you?" the lady asked, with her dyed purple hair bobbing as she bobbed excitably up and down, the sleeves of her franchise uniform personified by being rolled fashionably up, she was all smiles and chewing gum with a hint of shimmery pink lipgloss.

"Um," Hermione quickly explained her plight. She needed an outfit for a teenager currently staying over at her house, and rather urgently too.

"Sure," murmured the girl, running over to the counter to grab a key and unlocking a special display case, "Here's our generic summer brand outfit. It's our best sale at the moment. You can't go wrong with this."

Hermione nodded, just glad the solution to her problems of what to buy was serendipitously solved just by the arrival of a salesperson who appeared to know what she was talking about.

"I'll just get you a spare then," said the salesgirl, upon seeing Hermione was satisfied and quite thankful to find the item. She locked the case and disappeared into the store room to recover spare stock of the sample for sale, and ran the barcode through the scaner. It was a simple white t-shirt with a red rim around the u-neck, a black crow or raven or eagle of some sort on the left chest area. A small tick almost. And skintight khaki jeans all the way down. A simple aesthetic someone in a boyband may just casually wear or something, whilst being snapped by paparazzi in Hollywood. Simple yes, but stylish in a way that completely negated any chance Hermione had of embarrassing herself by revealing an atrocious fashion sense in choosing clothes for him. Which she had to admit, was also partly her worry. It wasn't that she was bad, she had have a fashion sense. Even Ginny and Lavender at one point complimented her on her fashion sense as the years grew on at Hogwarts. It was just that she wasn't a 100 percent in the clear with her fashion sense, and Draco was a guy. She'd never shopped for guys before. She, Ron and Harry just didn't _do _shopping trips, and at the times they ended up shopping together, it was nearly always for school supplies, 99 per cent of the time. Minus that one percent where they'd dragged her to Florean's Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, not even to get ice-cream. Apparently Ron's mum had banned the boys in his household from sugar for a week that time, but so they could look at the ice mice chattering in the ice-cream, driving themselves mental in the compartment somehow placed next to _Chez! Chez! Chez! All you can eat chez! _ice-cream.

"Thank you," she beamed at the cashier, who smiled back.

Then Hermione grabbed her merchandise and left.

She found him still in the bathroom, dressed in the same baggy grey sweatpants that travelled down his leg and clung to it in an almost attractive manner, topless, as he trimmed his nose hairs or shaved his non-existent beard. Facial hair he never let grow anyway.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, unbelievable that this twat spent the entire duration while she was out personally grooming and highkey probably checking himself out in the mirror the majority of the time.

"What? I have to shave sometimes. And my own personal business to do," he said, turning to the side and admiring his nostrils in the mirror. "Why not do it now?" She noted that his razor was a little different to the muggle ones. She supposed wizards must have some sort of contraption for shaving, but it was probably slightly different, having been developed independently of the muggle ones.

"Just change. Go. Do. Now," she yelped, tossing the clothes packaged in the neat transparent bag to him.

He raised his eyebrows as he turned it over in his hands.

Hermione slammed the door in his face before he could comment on her lack of fashion sense, or the low quality materials, or whatever blood-curling and scream-inducing comment he could produce.

She pouted at the door until he came out. Moments later, in what she could only most accurately describe as dressed in a way that made her throat close up, and her hands tingle, and not at all in an entirely unpleasant way either.

"This wasn't the shitshow I thought it would be," he said, turning himself about. His blonde hair contrasted with the white of the t-shirt in an almost perfect manner, the red bringing out just the tiniest bit of colour on him to make it cool. The minimalist black bird showing it's virtue now. The whole shirt clung to him in a fine and almost perfect way, like he really could model for a clothing company. And even worse, he wore a smirk that said he knew he looked good, the jeans fitted well too. He looked sharp, handsome. A different Draco to the boy dressed in the Hogwarts robes with a scowl on his face, but not altogether, what Hermione was sure any sane person in their right mind would realistically argue as unattractive. Immediately she imagined Pansy Parkinson or Millicent fawning over him and his stupid arrogant glance and felt disgusted.

"You look quite nice," she said softly, not wanting him to feel unwelcomed. She tried to imagine what it would be like had the roles been reversed and she was trying on wizarding wear from Malfoy's hands at his house. She thought he would have the basic decency and courtesy to not make her feel terrible right away, and like she ought to return the same favour, call it competitive courtesy if you will.

"Don't I?" he said, a smirk on his face as he turned himself about again.

"Enough. Let's go shopping for the rest of your clothes and get this day over and done with," she snapped, hastily grabbing at his hand and leading him downstairs where he slipped into his shoes, that Mrs Granger had instructed him to leave by the entrance as she gave him breakfast. She ended up insisting cooking a special meal for him out of pity, and him recognising it may the last time he had someone do anything for him in a long time, ate it heartily.

"Well that wasn't bad," he muttered, "the first outfit I mean."

Hermione tuned him out as she slipped on her shoes.

"I almost feel like an attractive muggle."

"Shut-"

"Alright. Alright," he said with an easy-going smirk as he raised his palms at her and backed away.

She took a breath, held it and glared, before opening the door and leading with a jangle of her keys. The first outfit might have broke him in well, but now she was afraid of the beast she had unlocked. The highly fashionable, i-look-like-a-model-effortlessly _non contrarre _blonde she'd have to drag about for the rest of the day. She took a look at him out of the corner of her eye and prayed he wouldn't grow several more inches through the course of the holiday or anything, lest she have to repeat this experience.


	7. Entire New Wardrobe!

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 7: Entire New Wardrobe!

"You're getting an entire new wardrobe of muggle clothes!" exclaimed Hermione, dragging Draco by the hand through a series of stores as they wandered about the department store. She was more familiar with the area than he was, and had a fair share of pleasant memories in the mall as a kid, so she was more enthused and happy once they set foot in the centre. Whereas Draco had turned back into a scowl as she led him through the areas, he had his hands stuck in pockets she didn't even know the pants had, and one in hers that she seized in a fit of exasperation as she pulled him through stores. He really did have a scowl on his face. She wandered if he was like this when shopping with his mother.

"I feel stupid," he said, then took a deep breath in through his nostrils, and breathed out, exasperated and annoyed seemingly. "Everything's so different. The clothes are different."

"Maybe you'll get a sense of how they're different," said Hermione, "Listen. I know you're not stupid. Enough classes at Hogwarts have proven that. If you put half as much effort into your studies that I know you have, into looking around, you could learn the distinct fashion sense and pick out something you like."

"There's no robes," he said stubbornly, then stepped around as if he was wearing a robe and expecting the back section to come flying out from behind him. He stopped and scowled, "There's a lot less material in the clothes than in the wizarding world. You know the name we have for these things?" he asked.

"Minimalist fashion?" said Hermione.

"Poor," he spat, "this resembles the scraps wizards wear when there isn't enough wealth to buy more material."

Hermione sighed, "Look. Muggle fashion split from wizarding fashion when they segregated around the 16th century. Everything was most feudal and worn for the purpose of showing of wealth then," she explained, "People favoured items that showed of their family's wealth because it helped them increase status in the eyes of other people, which in turn helped them ascend in societies and do what they want."

"Also because besides clothes what did you have to boast about? Oh hey, look at my new rock. It's a special import from the mountains of Switzerland? People had less accessories to show of their wealth, they couldn't just splash some cash on iphones, cars, laptops or the like back then."

"I'm not even going to ask what those are. Too soon," said Draco.

"Understandable."

"But I will say we had animals as well. And gardens. The architecture of the house. Quality of food. Expensive wine. Clothes-"

"Your animals were even more poorly looked after than they are now," spat Hermione, her own nostrils flaring a little as her voice stabbed the air, "They expired _unnecessarily _prematurely due to the supreme lack of care and proper knowledge-"

"Making owning more an even better adage of your wealth. Only the richest of the rich can afford to keep importing new live and exotic animals after the old expired-"

"Due to shitty care," spat Hermione, still angry.

"Due to shitty care," conceded Draco, "but it still stands. The playgrounds of the rich were not as boring as the proletariat may think. Not then, not now."

Hermione just glared, thinking _why out of all people, _she had to talk to his prat.

"But anyway, after they segregated the muggle population boomed - the witch and wizarding population are substantially smaller than that of muggles, you do know that right?" said Hermione when Draco raised his eyebrows as if he couldn't believe that muggles outbested magical folk in an area.

"Well you know what they say, the bottom of a triangle is always wider than it's top," said Draco loftily.

"_Right_. Well, with the increase in population people favoured business and transactions slightly more than who your father knows. Pretty soon fancy clothes were swapped out for convenience, businesswear-"

"Have you ever been to a masquerade? Identities masked, all you have to speak for yourself are clothes. And the most fantastical clothes come into play. I shall take you to a masquerade once. It shall be great-"

"Over time it evolved and now you get convenient small clothes, which are the epitome of being able to live well and afford _proper _clothing, thank you very much," spat Hermione, ignoring his interruption, whilst she was taking him around a series of mannequins which featured convenient and easy breezy summer wear.

"Right. I think I'm starting to get a sense of the fashion muggle now," said Draco, with the ever so slightest lip curl, "Why is everything on clearance or 40% off? Don't you have stores that pride themselves on their value for money," he asked, eyeing a darkly grey dapper jacket with distaste.

"Yes but they're expensive," said Hermione, turning her head up at the stunning and highly lit boutiques sparkling like diamonds on the top floor, "besides. We're buying with my parents money here," she said, motioning to the wad of notes in her purse. Truth to be told, it was a rather large wad, for they were expecting her buy an entire summer's worth of clothes for 24/7 wear and occasions pretty much, and it was a lot compared to the usual amount she would maybe be allocated for back to school wear, or new clothes a few times a year when they went shopping. Even if it was a modest amount for it's purpose. Draco seemed to understand as such and didn't press it any further.

They passed by a couple more shoppers. Wives dragging their tired husbands along for some last minute shopping they forgot to do.

"Hermione, what happened to the pantaloons you said all muggles wore? Are they one of the things that disappeared came the..._convenient _path of fashion your world seems to have taken," he said with a hint of scorn, "And why wasn't your dad wearing them? I thought you said all males wore them in the muggle world," he asked.

Oh? He still half believed they were legitimate? Well she supposed as impeccable of a style he may have developed in the wizarding world and was probably likely to grasp in the muggle world given enough time, they had been shopping for a total of...she checked her watch, 47 minutes since they set foot in the shopping centre. Why not milk that cow for what it's worth.

He didn't notice as she slyly dragged him to the fancy costumes section of the department store, a snide smile on her face. Oh, so he thought Draco Malfoy, pureblood _extraordinaire_, could turn down his nose at everything? Well she did have a solid knowledge of the layout of the store well from her childhood and adolescent years of shopping here, and that was an advantage she had to which she was going to make his lofty nose suffer.

"Nah. That's just for adults," she said, "It's still a remarkably common item of clothing among muggle children and adolescents. Not always, but very common. It's just that when you get to adulthood, they don't bother to wear it as much."

"Right," said Draco, not sure what to believe. He didn't help that the surrounding mannequins which he trained his eye on featured men in somewhat frilly blouses which he supposed may have been the extreme of convenience clothing, still within the normal range, even if slightly higher, and well...poofy pants of almost metallic velvet and a forbidding sort of swell that was very apparent what they were and where they were in the support of his nightmares coming true.

Meanwhile...

a short boy with curly blonde hair and a cute sailor's outfit wandered by the store with a fussy, older woman who had a big bag and an intricate perm.

"Mummy, is it weird that I'm one of the three only boys in my ballet class? But I'm so excited we get to play nutcrackers in the holiday play!"

"No, not weird," she said, running a hand through his curly hair and brushing away his worries, "anyone can do what they love."

"Yaay," said the kid, running out from behind a couple of shelves.

Draco was just considering the extent of dignity he would potentially have to say goodbye to if he ever adorned these stupid and poofy pants, and considering calling the quits and telling Hermione he'd would rather opt out and be okay with just being considered to have a middle-aged man's fashion sense in her world, if pantaloons weren't _that _common. When suddenly, a young boy ran out from behind a few shelves of a display.

"Mummy! Mummy! Where are my tights!" he said, running about the shelves and grabbing a few pure white ones from the racks at places.

Draco paled.

"Not these ones. We get them over there," said a tall woman, walking out from behind them as well, "they'll match the ones the other boys in your class are wearing," she said.

Draco blanched.

"You alright?" asked Hermione, as Draco teeter-tottered on the soles of his feet slightly.

"Yeah. _Yeah__._ I'm _fine_. Whatever _stupid_, embarrassing, highly _ridiculous _item of clothing you insist on me wearing to maintain what is apparently a dignified look in your world, sure. Fine. Go ahead. But let's just get out of here as soon as possible, and _don't_ remind me of this experience again!" he hissed, steeling himself up as he glared at Hermione.

"Alright. Hold on a minute, I'll just fetch you a pair so you can try them on in the changing rooms to make sure the sizing's correct," said Hermione cheerily as Draco sank into a plush chair by the changing rooms.

Hermione returned with a poofy, velvety, burgandy brown highlighted with bright halloween orange diamonds pair. "Here it is," she said, all smiles, "I'll hold them whilst you step into them over your current pants. They _are _hard to put on by yourself sometimes."

"What are those?" spat Draco, referring to the extended top and sleeves stemming from the pantaloons.

"Oh, just the complimentary top," she said with another great smile, "sometimes they have those."

"Well they could do without!" he said, eyeing the putrid brown pants, with the ballooning up near the thigh and the orange diamonds with their sides touching in a ring all the way around.

He whimpered, lifted the sole of his foot of the ground, and hovered, staring at the pants with scrutinizing agony.

"You sure it's absolutely nec-"

"Just fine-"

"Well-"

"Perfectly ordinary!"

"What if-"

"Definitively right."

"But now I'm-"

"C'mon. We don't have all day. They're waiting," she said, her smile growing wider.

Draco whimpered. He put one foot in. His grimace grew wider. He let that foot touch the ground. He put his other foot in. At some point he had to open his eyes again to see where the sides were so he could grab them to pull. He placed his hands at the sides of the pants, about to pull the horrid monstrosity on. He whimpered again, moving with the fevered grace of the excruciatingly agonised.

Hermione grinned, before saying. "Draco?"

"_Yes_," he peered at her out of a crack in his eye.

"I'm joking. You don't actually have to wear it."

Outside of the shopping centre, lazy grey cars trailed their way past the high street, the sun shined over a sleepy and leafy green town. Birds fluttered over the tiny cream tops of the buildings and a few telephone wires quivered as several crows fluttered away.

"_WHATTTT?!"_

Meanwhile...

"That was hilarious." They were walking through the sections of the department store. Hermione picked out a shopping cart. They had placed a few items in.

"No, no it wasn't. It was _the most_ stupid, ridiculous, _inane_, the vocabulary doesn't even come to me to-" Draco shook his head. Though Hermione noted he was decidedly more calm and easy-going and even if she dared admit, ever so slightly humbled after that, and after he found out he didn't have to wear it for real as Hermione explained she saw the boy was most likely doing ballet and that they both agreed that the proper place for pantaloons as high fashion was for the 16th century.

"It was funny," said Hermione decidedly, a smile on her face.

"You really _did_ believe it for a hot minute."

"I never," said Draco, but he had known that he had lost. He poked his tongue out at her.

Hermione just smiled a breezy smile. "Shall we get your next items then?" she asked, and Draco was decidedly more cooperative for the next couple of hours. His shopping cart of just the right amount of items to see him through all 7 days of the week for the summer was half picked out exclusively by him, and half picked out by Hermione, helping by mostly adding plain filler clothes such as socks and plain t-shirts to have enough for all 7 days of the week after Draco had picked out the ones more suited to his taste.

The shopping cart had piled up considerably full as they neared the end of their shopping trip. Draco taking into account the surroundings and things along the way. Hermione had explained a bit of the muggle lifestyle, and what there was to do here. Nightclubs, alcohol, bars, looking at uni's (her parents had talked most emotionally about those topics, and stories of family friends or Hermione's old classmates from bumping into their parents around town in their recent letters while she was at Hogwarts, so those were the ones that jumped out at her the most, even though it was a bit unlike Hermione to be otherwise interested in those), getting a part-time job, driver's license (Draco had an immediate interest in cars once he figured out what they were, and he was beginning to have the same lilt to his voice and glint in his eye talking about them as Harry and Ron did with quidditch brooms, which was making her a bit sketchy) as well as tired meanderings of conversation here and there about other areas.

"How's your shopping experience been?" asked Hermione.

"Pretty average. Averagely bad. Averagely good. It's better than pretty bad," he said as Hermione's disapproving glare.

She just sighed and stuck out her tongue at him.

"I've been wondering all day..." he said, then stopped abruptly in his tracks and in Hermione's way, "what is the point of all these life-sized people but not real people standing about?"

"The name is mannequins. They're supposed to show how the clothes look on people," she replied.

"On attractive people?" asked Draco bluntly.

"Yes, for the most part!" said Hermione with a grin. Although most of her mannequin!Harry and mannequin!Ron's had been taken down, or decorated along the day, still a large quantity remained and would remain until the final mall clean-up at the end of the day done by the store member working the last shift. There were still a large amount of her specially modified mannequins about.

"So you think," said Draco surly, "that the people they're modelled after are attractive? The pinnacle looks of society?"

"I think so," agreed Hermione slowly, enunciating every word.

"So the people who do look like them get bragging rights?" he pointed out sullenly.

Hermione only grinned some more, remembering her Harry and Ron mannequins in their full glory at the start of the day. "Yes, why all the questions Malfoy?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, it's just..." Draco crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. Hermione smiled a sly smile to herself, expecting the funniest moment of the century to occur, when he said something along the lines of 'so the epitome of muggle attractiveness is apparently Harry and Ron? Huh.'

Draco crossed his arms again and smiled a cocky smirk, "I think they look like me," he said, the smirk never leaving his blue eyed blonde haired face.

"Huh?" Hermione almost doubled back in shock, "there's quite a range. Black and red hair and all in between and glasses are all the rage now," she stumbled automatically.

"Oh? I didn't notice _those ones_," grunted Draco, nonchalant, "it's just...I think they look like _me_."

There it was. In it's full glory. Draco was _smirking _and wearing that self-assured sense of grandiose 'I am better than everyone I meet' smirk again. His blue-silvery eyes shining and blonde hair contrasting with his rapidly becoming handsome features as the years went on, and the tiny bit of natural colour of his cheeks, with a stare fixated somewhere beyond Hermione.

Hermione turned back around and saw what he was looking at. The mannequin from the morning. In the special display case that had been locked and therefore unchangeable by her. It really was, looking like Draco, lean Ardonis figure with a pale blonde wig atop a forehead. It was the mannequin which she purchased the exact items of clothing Draco was wearing now. She could feel herself blushing at that. It was starting to get a bit ridiculous to deny things now. She felt a scowl coming on but managed to correct it before turning around, and uncontrollably, perhaps one of her lesser moments, out of her mouth came the words rather sharply, "It would look like you if you were bald and had hair glued onto your head."

"Oh? But it went through the trouble of having a wig glued on in an imitation _of me_, dearest Granger," he said with an even bigger smirk.

There was no way out now.

"Fine," she said, a little defeated, as she pushed the trolley towards the changing rooms, "you are apparently the pinnacle of attractive even here."

"What? I didn't hear. Say that again?," he said, placidly placing a hand to his head and grinning as he followed.

"Say _that _again and I'll give you real hearing problems," said Hermione savagely. Draco quickly shut up, but with a haughtily amused smile on his face.

"Here we are. The changing rooms," said Hermione, pushing the trolley in through the doorway into the empty changing room. It was one of the largest in the department store so it managed to somehow accommodate the full trolley, what looked like enough space for Draco and a mini entourage, a rug, two armchairs, a full length mirror in conjunction with the mirrors glued on the wall, a table, a potted plant and vase.

"What is this?" asked Draco, having not ended up using the changing rooms for the pantaloons and not quite registering what they were when mentioned at that time.

"You just change into items and check that they look alright before you buy them," said Hermione, "it's not a good idea to buy a whole 24/7 wardrobe for three months without trying on a few items to see that it fits alright and looks okay," she said.

Draco nodded. Hermione took a seat on the sofa set outside. The cream vanilla coloured door swung shut with a flicker as the lights inside were no longer visible from the outside.


	8. Going Grocery Shopping

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 8: Going Grocery Shopping

Draco stepped out in his outfits one by one. Hermione tried not to feel stupid as he managed to look effortlessly hot and just...handsome, in almost every single one. His face was plain and devoid of emotion at the moment. Which was good, because she'd seen the equally haughty and 'oh, you didn't expect so?' look on his father's face when he strolled up to collect Draco after the school year had finished at the station, dressed casually in what had to be priceless family heirlooms and clothing items, carrying a cane that Hermione was sure cost more than the sum of all the items in her Hogwarts trunk plus more, and the benignly surprised and 'oh, you didn't expect so?' look when others cast his fevered glances. Afraid they'd misjudged the Malfoy charm. He had a cocky smirk and pull of one eyebrow upward, and a mouth that was slightly twisted to the side.

Lucius Malfoy was hot. Even if a little incestuous to even think about him like that, it was undeniably objective, that he was a rather handsome man.

Draco Malfoy was hot.

Hermione was hot. But not for the same reasons. She thought, as she fanned herself with a pamphlet she picked up off a shelf as they were wandering around.

"How do I look?" He said, stepping out in a white t-shirt with tiny blue horizontal stripes separated by larger blocks of white just a little before the chest began. Blue stripes crawling across half of his sleaves and snaking around the bottom. He wore a snug pair of red skinny jeans that looked good on him and bought out a mischievous sort of bad boy vibe about him.

It was getting painful to pretend to be indifferent, but Hermione told herself one of Malfoy's most hideous charms, was the fact that he just happened to be gifted with the genetics of a god, and that as long as she could get through this, everything else would be marginally more bearable.

"Not bad," she said.

He turned himself around and swung up a wrist playfully, "this would look good with a watch."

"You'd have to purchase that separately. My parents didn't quite give enough for this session."

"No worries, I have my own. My mother sent five pairs. I just left them at home."

He stepped out again. This time in a denim blue jacket, with a white t-shirt and black pants. "Not bad eh?" he asked, turning himself about.

"G-good," squeaked Hermione.

Draco smirked.

He went in and then came out. A light blue button down with dark navy pants. "How do I look?" he asked.

"This one's good for the dentist," confirmed Hermione.

Draco glanced at her, "you still have yet to tell me what a dentist is."

Hermione just sighed, "it's about time you get acquainted with google. The internet," she paused, "you need a phone. We'll buy you one."

He changed into a dark black leather jacket, white t-shirt underneath and dark coloured jeans. Hermione sighed a little to herself. _Oh he was hot_.

He tried on more clothes. He had a thing for black. Black suit jackets or casual black jackets. It contrasted with his hair nicely and bought out his smirk perhaps a little bit more. Either that or light colours, such as baby blue, cream, button-downs like that bought a soft and professional edge to him, making his crop of pale blonde hair pop and the smirk on his face all the more arrogant. Denim looked good. T-shirts looked good. Jeans looked good.

Finally Hermione was saved by a text message on her phone. She glanced down at it, then up, "my parents need some groceries," she explained, "but they're rather busy at the moment. They asked me to pick some up."

Draco grunted. It cut their trip short. They placed the items in bags which she was surprised to see him carry his fair share of the load, or perhaps more as they wandered down the high street to her house. People peered out from their driveway or living room windows, staring at them. She supposed they weren't entirely at fault, they did look an odd sight.

It was decided they would dump the clothes of at home, grab a quick lunch there, and then head out to get the groceries.

"You don't have your license yet?" asked Draco.

"No, I told you..." Hermione reiterated the rules again and where she was at.

Draco just gruntled, "how often do police patrol the area?" he questioned.

Hermione hesitated, sensing where this was going, "they're always on call but...the police department is on the other side of the shops, away from the residential areas and public areas like the school and the church. They mostly patrol around downtown after hours..."

"Downtown," repeated Draco.

"Downtown," said Hermione, motioning with her head to a series of buildings in the distance of the skyline, behind the business floors and the small shops, where the sky grew murkier and almost faded in with the buildings at the horizon. The different heights of tan coloured blocks, with wires of inside tubes waiting to be lit up - neon lights, twisting themselves into pictures and words. Of pretty decorations and icons of a palm tree, islands, a festive lantern, in neon words which was currently left unlit. The banners that hung between areas, the strings between windows of buildings, with their little upside down triangle fabric pieces dangling of them and fluttering in the wind. Smoke rising from certain areas.

Several times boys on a motorcycle, dressed all in black or the like, rode precariously by. Chugging a cigarette or clutching the keys to a new and too expensive cars before zooming down the street.

"Downtown seems interesting," said Draco.

"We're not going too far in," said Hermione. They had finally arrived home. She dumped her load on the porch outside her house, unlocked the door with her keys and started subconsciously wringing her hands with worry, "my mother says some _interesting _people live there. It's where you start to meet..._unique individuals_. It's called downtown fora reason."

"Just lie. Doesn't seem like you'll risk casually bumping into the police while your driving," said Draco, "from the sounds of it, they only check if they don't expect. Just don't give them a reason to suspect. Act confident and over the age. You could make it. You look kind of mature in a way," he finished, regarding Hermione with an impassive look.

Hermione blushed unexpectedly.

"It's true. You do look mature," Draco's eyes never left Hermione's face for a minute. Her face had grew longer and slimmed down from when she was a child, resembling a sharp attractive oval. Her hair was sleek now, and moreso in dirty-blonde wavy curls down her face than bushy when she wore it loose. Mostly blonde with a few brunette streaks within. When she was younger it was slightly blonde too probably, but the bushiness cut down on the glossiness of the hair a bit and it looked more boring brown. Now it was in naturally loose curls framing her face. She had a kind of mature grace or sight to her. And she was much taller now, probably a decent 5'6 to Draco's 5'9.

"W-w-why, thanks." It came out slightly stuttered at the beginning and Hermione cringed at herself. Standing by the threshold of the doorway, handing some items into Draco's eagerly awaiting hands, which she noted were well open and she had begun putting bags in them without even thinking about it, it was perhaps the most awkward but yet sincere compliment she had received that year. To be complimented on something other than her brains! And it was a creeping little feeling not at all unlike the special giddy she was when Krum complimented her at the Yule Ball, that she had tasted once, if ever so briefly, and wouldn't mind tasting it again. To have men look at her that way. She didn't really know the right words for it yet.

To Hermione's surprise, Draco looped his arms through most of the items and insisted on carrying them to his room when they were in. Up the two flights of stairs they had to take. Hermione was a little surprised but she didn't say anything. She closed the door with a click and went to throw together a meal, apologising in his wake as he came down. It was just some leftover spaghetti she found in a tub that must've been from her parents dinners several nights ago, before she returned from Hogwarts. Her parents had never left leftover food in the fridge for more than a couple of days, so from her experience, what was in there was generally very safe to eat. And a pot of boiling water to which she was slowly adding tinned sauce, and stirring with the slow scrapes of the wooden spoon, hoping to break up the congealed pieces and prevent the meatballs from coalescing together in one huge lump and generally have it not resemble unidentifiable goop before it ticked too close to burning and she would have to bring it of the stove.

"Not a problem. You didn't have very long or very much ingredients," excused Draco, beginning to hunt around the cabinets for some eating utensils to place them on the table.

"You know how to set a table?" asked Hermione, stirring the pot some more, surprised.

"What? Did you think I existed on servants all day?" spat Draco, perhaps a little too strongly, he began laying out the items in two sets, with a deft sort of soundless grace that Hermione hadn't seen anyone handle cutlery with before. "We do cook our own sometimes. Mother takes us to the kitchens and we swear to not be dependent on the servants forever."

He began setting down the glasses, different spoons, knives, forks, all in a peculiar pattern that Hermione had never seen them before. She realised they'd never set out the cutlery properly before. Certainly not with all the different types. It was a certain sort of charm unneeded in their household, but a nice one to witness all the same, she concluded rather reluctantly as she watched Draco do magic with the pieces. He knew proper setting it seemed.

"The aim of servants," he said.

She flinched a little, wondering how he could appear so handsome, but yet just casually be conversing about servitude without some sort of moral inquiry as they waited for the sauce to finish.

"Is to do the gutwork, but not run the scenes. Mother knows most of the recipes of my heart and was the one who manages the servants to do as she wished. I do know how to cook, enough to live on my own I hope, but I have yet perfected anything," said Draco, "think of servants like manufacturers. The master still holds the patent, they're just carrying out the gutwork."

"That's a _lovely analogy_," said Hermione, her lip curled and a dismayed look on her face.

Draco smirked, "_you _would say that," he said, grabbing pitchers of ice-cold water from the fridge and filling the glasses.

Hermione was about to say something when, "the sauce-" cried Draco.

"The sauce-" she cried, running to the pot which was almost overbubbling. She managed to turn it of, stir it a little. She peered down nervously at it. Good. It hadn't stuck to the bottom of the pot. To her surprise Draco came over to place both hands on the edges of the pot and ease it over to the table. She wanted to snort at him taking typical gentlemany actions as if she was useless, but it _was _rather easy to let him do it. Didn't seem to tax him really.

The microwave had dinged ages ago. She opened it, aired it out a little and they split the old spaghetti between them, dolling out pools of the rich sauce as it fell in delicious clumps.

They clinked their glasses and laughed as they ate. It was peaceful. For now. And almost lovely in a way, Hermione noted.

They ate in comfortable silence, Hermione pondering this and that whilst she chewed. She knew how to cook. Did regular chores and was probably nearing the stage where she knew enough to be able to survive on her own, but she wasn't great at cooking brilliant dishes, or magnificant dishes, and most of her stuff was edible, and average, but not exquisite. Sometimes, it felt a bit awkward. Like a culinary art she never quite mastered unlike most of her subjects at Hogwarts that she spent almost every waking hour slobbering upon.

When Draco next spoke she almost expected him to critique her food but instead he said, "you should let me take you shopping some time."

Hermione choked on her spaghetti.

"What? I have style," Draco put on an innocent, affronted look.

"I don't want to be wearing leather jackets and khaki pants with a v-neck," she said defensively.

"Oh pardon me. I meant I have style for myself, and eyes for what looks good on others."

Hermione only rolled her eyes but Draco wasn't convinced.

"You should honestly let me, just once...maybe if you like it, again. I can pick out something good. As a payback for today's shopping trip."

"Fine," said Hermione. Only because she felt the slightest bit of pity.

They finished their meal and then left the house, keys jangling in her hand as they walked across down the streets.

"It says here we have to get some pens, binders, milk, eggs, cleaning materials-" Hermione scrolled through her phone.

"Sure seems useful, a phone," said Draco longingly.

"Just you wait and see," she said.

They had entered the streets outside of the main street, which weren't fashion or jewellery or makeup or any of those stores, but convenience stores, supermarkets for all items not just clothing. It was different, and a heck lot busier out here now that evening was arriving. The sky had taken on a darker and more sombre streak. Clouds of orange floating through a sky that was streaked with the burning orange of the evening. It was orange, it was flashing grey due to the clouds, blinding white, all with streaks of clouds striated across the amber skies, and the tiniest of the sky's reflection there, seen in the minor hues that took to the clouds.

The air smelt fresh and cool, evening was going to be approaching, it almost felt _cool_.

He was getting used to the hub and thrum of suburbia, the hustling and bustling of people, the business everywhere. It bought out a bit of a wistful streak. If the war breaks out and all hell breaks loose, he decided, I might just want to live in the muggle world when it's all over. A period of recovery. In a quaint little muggle suburbia. Away from everything. Just the suburb life.

More cars rattled by. He noted in the distance, beyond downtown, there seemed to be a large road, larger than any road he had seen, where lots of cars and what looked like mega cars, with huge hoods at the head and one tiny head at the front, roared by. Vehicles containing two wheels and a rider on top, roaring through the streets. The road that winded and headed into nowhere in the distance.

He glanced back at Hermione, who was currently looking for a store that sold free range eggs. They talked, their conversation touching on the events of yesterday, the changes and how Draco was taking them. But a superficial sort of talk. It touched nothing deep. It was _almost _fun. Then suddenly, "oh. I have to go to the bathrooms," said Hermione, giving her phone to Draco who held the heavier than expected object in his hand like a lifeline, it seemed important. He didn't want to drop it.

He nodded.

"It's woman's problems, I would usually remember but I'm afraid I forgot about it with all the events. You're going to have to buy me pads," she said with a flush and a 'how could I possibly forget this' sort of look.

"What!?" Draco paled.

"Uh-huh. Find a convenience store that sells them, then meet me outside the bathrooms. It's not that hard," she said, dumping some cash into his hand.

"No! It's too embarrassing! 'I can't say that," he hissed through closed teeth.

"Why not?" Hermione appeared unperplexed.

"Because I'm a guy," now Draco was using his hands to gesture at the air, "I can't do that. What are they going to think?"

She breathed in. She breathed out, "god I wish Harry was here," she muttered, but then continued, "just go to a convenience store. And say 'This is not for me, but I would like to buy some pads"

"'This is not for me'? _Really_?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Just go," said Hermione.

And so Draco was left there for a moment, whilst Hermione had left to the bathrooms for some 'womanly things'.

He stared at the wad of money nervously in his hand before finally plucking up the courage to walk inside. They were at the end of the line of small shops, a little near the downtown section. He could see the peeling paint and the neon lights and a few boys on the two-wheeled vehicles loitering around, cigarettes and lighters, a few carried bottles of pale liquor, one a long stick Draco couldn't see the purpose of yet. One beefy boy with curly brown hair drew a scrunched up piece of paper from inside his jacket somewhere and threw it to the ground. There were cheers as the boys kicked it around before setting it on fire, and he watched intently as the minute flames licked up the paper before they were swallowed by the air, and it was just the smoke rising up.

Draco was reminded of his mission with a jump, and headed into the store.

It was dimmer in here than outside. There was the chorus of screaming voices and singer's warbling coming from the room, something about cats and intercourse and fathers associated with sugar.

A figure with spiky black hair, a purple and black leather jacket and eyes rimmed with black material stood behind the counter. The smooth movement of the jaw suggested chewing and the person stopped and smiled at Draco as he walked in, putting a hand on the counter heavily laden with rings that had spikes coming out of them.

"Good evening," purred a voice. It was a man. Draco looked up. Since the store was dark and his head was light, and the only light source were some lights installed in the ceiling raining down on them, the cashier mostly saw a crop of glossy blonde hair almost in a pixie cut, a smooth pallid face and what he thought of as someone who could deliver a good tongue-tickling and touching of the fartbox.

"Hello. Do you have a store servant here?" asked Draco, momentarily forgetting everything and just thinking it would be so much less embarrassing to have a servant pick out some pads for him. He had only been in the muggle world two days really.

The man with the spiky black hair and darkly rimmed eyes and ebony black lips raised an eyebrow. "_Oh!_" he said, "in fact, we do have a servant for hire at parties." He kept chewing and his eyes never left Draco's face, "however, he's not in at the moment. We don't get a lot of folk comfortable to request him."

"Well what use is he if he's not here to distract me from shopping right now and here," said Draco stubbornly, eyeing what he thought appeared to be pads by the colds and sore throat lozenges and what appeared to be the health section. It quickly morphed into pads and then... STI testing kit. DIY pregnancy kit. _The Unavoidable UTI: 99 reasons you have one, and one reason you still do: the handbook, vol 2. _Condoms. Birth control. The sides were filled with incense and chalk passages.

"Did anyone tell you that you are beautiful," said the man behind the counter, standing up straighter and flexing.

"As a matter of fact yes. My aunts, my mother, my father, everyone says I'm quite attractive," said Draco, nodding in truth.

"Your hair is a wonderful colour. How did you get it like that? What's your secret? Is it Platinum C#360? Platinum C#330?" asked the cashier.

"Why thank you, my hair is one of my greatest accessories," said Draco, "and it's all natural," he said.

"All Natural C#20? All Natural C#40? All Natural C#60?"

"Hm, I think I'll get these," said Draco, finally deciding it was better to just say so in the middle of conversation than after an awkward pause. He grabbed the standard pack of pads.

"Oh, that time of month. What a pity," said the man, handing them over.

"I wouldn't be using them!" said Draco in a panic.

"Ah, I see." Understanding flickered in the man's eyes, "And what a tricky journey that could be. I wish you all the strength and positivity with your chosen journey," he said.

"Right, thanks," said Draco, then walked out of the door.

A short while later...

"How did you find it?" asked Hermione, "was it really as bad as you thought?" she asked, taking the pads thankfully.

"No, it was surprisingly good. No one gave me a hard time! I didn't even get made fun of for being less masculine once!" said Draco.

Hermione frowned.

After that they walked home in the evening dusk.

"Today wasn't too bad," murmured Hermione.

"Shopping and grocery shopping," said Draco, "you have to stop at a lot of places to get your items if you can't make it to a supermarket," he mused.

"Yeah sorry. That really is a huge inconvenience-"

"No - don't apologise! Sometimes it's nice to do the little things."

Hermione glanced over at Draco, and maybe just for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of understanding pass between them before they headed home.


	9. House Tour

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 9: House Tour

Draco enjoyed a dinner with Hermione's parents last night. Although some of the food was new, some were also rather good, and he made a mental note to ask her for the recipes sometime.

It was nice to just spend a bit of time chilling around, or hanging out in his new room by himself after the events of the past few days. Hermione had mostly left him alone (most likely she was busy with other things) and he'd spent it settling into his room.

He found out he was not to go the whole holidays without doing some work. For when his parents found out he wasn't going to be around magic for the entire holidays, they had sent all of his schoolbooks that they purchased in advance for the next year via mail and ordered him to do some light reading so he wouldn't fall behind once school started since he wasn't going to be around magic at all. They must've used some of their connections, thought Draco, for the school list usually didn't come out until late August. He had also spent the time rearranging and organising this to suit his fancy. If it weren't for all of his supplies and other items it would have already been difficult, but with the new bags of muggle clothing - it was going to take him _weeks _until his room resembled moderately like a normal person's, and less like a 'picked up from the middle of nowhere and dropped here' sort of situation.

Which, was almost exactly what it was, and frightening so too.

He had settled in to some of the routines alright. He now knew the path from his room to the communal bathroom quite well. (Still something he was not able to get over about). And it was just a lazy Friday that he spent, in his room, eating some of the small food items his parents had got him, when suddenly, there was a knocking at his door.

He opened it.

"Oh," he said.

It was Granger.

Seeing Granger in muggle clothes was strange. Seeing her in muggle clothes every day was definitely something to get used to. He started to get an appreciation of the way male muggle clothes were made, some sort of idea of what was fashionable or not. But women's clothes were still a topic that was somewhat of a mystery to him. Granger appeared to favour simple, but neat and occasionally elegant items of clothing. It bought out her slightly curvaceous figure and looks rather well, but it was just missing something.

She was missing stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous.

Just drop-dead boring.

"My parents suggested it was time to get you a house tour. They couldn't stand you bumping into that wardrobe again," said Hermione.

"I told you, I thought it was a door to a room," murmured Draco, "your hallway wardrobe has the same door as the other doors in the hallway you know?"

"What bedroom door is directly opposite a bathroom," said Hermione, "anyway. It's mandatory. My parents forced me. You kind of have to come for a tour. Chop-chop."

Draco sighed from where he was polishing one of his snowglobes of the pine trees in the Switzerland Alps his parents and him skiied in sometimes. Hermione held the door a little wider as he left and then she closed it.

"So...starting from here..." Hermione walked him through the layout of her house. On the top floor there was a long hallway. It had bright yellow panels with a row of ginger cats running down each panel. They weren't recognisable as ginger cats from a distance and looked pretty cool. The hallway was quite spacious, on the right side were Hermione's parents bedrooms. It had a white panelled door as all the other doors in the hallway. Then Hermione's bedroom was near them, then another bedroom which had actually been a third bedroom but they used it as a storage room slash living room where a lot of items were stored. It wasn't used by her family often so not many people went in. The bathroom was near Hermione's parents rooms and her room. Then the hallway crept towards the front of the house, the stair landing was on the left, there was a table with a rather realistic looking fake potted plant on it, it was dark green and looked to be in the stage of full bloom. At the end the hallway widened into a bit of a curve, there was a small circular window where Draco and Hermione had first spied the owls, and then Draco's room, the guest bedroom. Opposite his room, on the ceiling was a trapdoor which apparently led to the attic. It was rarely visited though, so Hermione didn't bother to show him it.

Downstairs they had the living room. It had cream coloured walls, a row of plates on the mantelpiece in front of a fake fireplace. Draco was told that there was no real fire, and behind the grates, there was simply a set of wires and tubings in the shape of fire, and when switched on, they emanated heat like any old heater and heated up the room that way, as well as perhaps giving of a bit of a glare and resembling dull flames from perhaps a distance.

The windows were at the front of the living room, full of lacy curtains that had two layers to them, one an intricate white lace of many layers and spirals, another of darker motted green. There were frills above and around the window.

The couch was lemon yellow, with an abundance of cushions and pillows. There was a tv a little way of. Three armchairs around the couch. A bunch of wooden shelves which looked solid, but were a plain sort of brown in colour, and with books, ornaments, assessories, photographs on them. It was quite a nice room. Hermione's cat had a permanent cat bed in the living room. There was a door connected to the garage, though Hermione didn't bother to show him it as they wouldn't be using the garage much. A bathroom between the living room and the kitchen, and another one near the back where it lead to her backyard. The kitchen was where they ate their dinner. They had the table and the chandelier and everything at one corner, and then the utilities of the kitchen. There was enough room on the big table where some breakfast foods like cereals and fruit were permanently placed.

Her backyard in the light was bigger than it had seemed to Draco that night in the dark. It was perhaps 10 ft by 6 ft or something like that, being wider than it was long. The grass was short and a healthy green. On the right was a swimming pool, fenced off with a sigh saying it's depth. The water was electric blue. Very different and not like the gradual fade from clear to pitch black at the centre like most lakes, missing sand, fish, plants, a lot of things really. It was no lake. Draco wasn't very interested in the pool, seeing as it wasn't a lake. He knew how to swim, having swam at exotic places on holidays but the pool was not something of any interest to him. There was a small, not wooden, but what looked like some sort of metal shed, Hermione explained, because of fire safety hazards where tools and the like were kept. A clothesline. Some small flowers and english foxgloves and weeping bells all around the garden. It wasn't bad.

Nothing compared to the sweeping grandeur of the Malfoy grounds. The endless hectares that were making his feet itch at the memory of. One could walk and walk, and have quite a bit of a walk before encountering anything. He had even ran away from his home several times when he was at his most angsty, excusing himself from his duties with his parents for a moment and them storming out through the sweeping Malfoy grounds to a secluded spot for a bit of privacy and thinking by himself. It had been a brisk jog, and something which felt very fulfilling and gave him purpose as she strolled through the Malfoy grounds. The exertion seemed to cool of some of his thoughts. Then there was flying, oh, the flying, soaring around the skies and the sweeping plains in his youth.

He missed his home. Bitterly so. But this new one was a mystery, and one waiting to be discovered too.

It's funny where the world brings you, he thought.

The front yard of Hermione's house was smaller than her backyard, but not by much. It was slightly more uphill compared to the rest of the neighbour's, being at the end of the street, so it sloped downwards a bit. There was indeed a large tree with purple flowers and green leaves, though the violet buds were beginning to die and had fallen into the ground in large clumps, some motted and greying as they displayed their decaying plight for the world to see. The occasionally sharp summer winds howling through the interstices of the tree where the last green leaves and purple buds stayed. Soon, all the flowers would fall and die among the ground and the leaves grow thinner as the tree took on a parched and exhausted appearance throughout the summer.

There were a matter of plants and the like around the border of Hermione's front yard. A cute cream coloured pavement had been erected, the rest was all grass. And like a lot of homes he saw, they had hedges trimmed to be like animals as well. Hermione's mum had a little tomato plant section near the front of the yard.

It was quite quaint. Very much so indeed. Just like his first observations of the house.

But nothing like the Malfoy Manor, he told himself. Nothing like the Malfoy Manor.

Of course, half of it escaped him all the moment he wasn't looking at the scene anymore. It was an immense source of frustration when in a recent letter from his mother, she had asked him what he thought of Granger's unit of residence, what it meant about the family and what was it like. He had responded that it was obviously smaller, but decent, and quaint, and that he really couldn't think of much more details to provide. To which his mother had responded that men were all the same, and Lucius often said the same things. Always telling her one or two word liners about something, but never providing any more detail.

'I daresay you'll pick up more things from it. But you shall have to see for yourself in person,' was something Draco had said.

He was still communicating with his parents frequently, and probably would do so for the remainder of the holidays. It would soon drop to once every several weeks he supposed, and in all of his replies he had more or less said the bare minimum, like he did most things. Less was more. All in all, it was beginning to become a steady existence. He could already feel himself more used to and accustomed to living at Hermione's place than he was days before, and it was both startling and pleasant to him at the same time.

Really, muggle suburbia was a second wonderland almost. Just wait til you see it, he thought of what he'd tell his best friend Nott when he got back. _You shall have to come sometime. The two of us together, maybe when the war's out. We shall run away from the wizarding world for a moment after the war's done and fought and lost, and just simply exist, in this little patch of muggle suburbia I found._

Quaint. Everything was quaint.

Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts as she finished rambling about whatever last trail she was going on about in their gardens.

"Mum wants us to come inside for dinner," she said.

"Oh, right."

Draco followed her in. She happened to have some chores to do so he followed and helped, folding clothes absentmindedly and so.

"Hermione, guess who called for you?" said her mother, poking her head out from behind a door.

Draco had supposed Hermione had to have some cousins, neighbourly friends (he hated neighbours), some old friends surely, that she talked to now and then again in her life. As hidden as she was and not the most popular flower to blossom at Hogwarts, he was sure there were some characters he'd be hearing and potentially meeting eventually, though truth to be told, that scared him more than he cared to admit, and he supposed this now wasn't a bad time to begin hearing about them. It must be a muggle friend because he didn't get the impression Ron knew how to use a 'phone' and if to his credit Harry was not as strange or weird or as much of a loser as Draco thought he was, Harry didn't seem like the type of person to particularly like chatting on the phone to him either.

"Oh? Who?" asked Hermione, a little bit curious and surprised.

"Cassidy and Felicity."

"Oh," Hermione said, '_5th grade birthday party inviters_', she mouthed to Draco. Cassidy, Felicity and Laura had been the three nicest girls in her primary school class. They were fairly easy-going, got along well with everyone and went with the flow, and ended up being the girls who talked to Hermione the most. She had bumped into Cassidy the latest last summer just before she left for Hogwarts but it was unusual for any contact between them to go further than just talking.

"Yeah, it's been quite a while. You have to hang onto your primary school friends you know," said her mum consolingly, "it's quite quaint. They wanted to hang out together this summer, what do you say?"

Hermione swallowed, "well it seems beyond rude to object. Sure, it's a date then," she said.

"Alright. They asked for you to have their number actually. Said to text them if you're fine with it and they'll call and make the details," said Hermione's mum, grabbing a stick it note by the telephone which had some numbers hastily scribbled on it. She gave it to Hermione. "This is so nostalgic," she said, "when you were little I would have talked to their mothers-"

"It's more than fine," said Hermione, staring at them. Since they lived in the same suburb and she could definitely, almost likely walk to all of their houses in a couple of hours at the most, there was no need to exchange mobile numbers before. She added them to her contacts and prepared to send a message.

"It'll be nice to have a bit of peace and downtime to myself," said Draco at that.

"Alright. Good luck with settling in and unpacking. I've finished already," replied Hermione.

They had dinner chased with slow conversation. Hermione's parents talked politics, economics and the stock market. Terms which half made sense to Draco because of similarities to the economy in the wizarding world, but yet half didn't. Just swimming about in a new soup of fog. Which accompanied tonight's soup rather well.

"Dad," piped up Hermione suddenly.

Mr Granger looked up.

"Mal-Draco needs a new phone. If he's out without one he'll definitely wind up lost."

"Oh, yes," tutted her mother, making a note of it on a yellow post-it-note, "that's fairly important. Would you like to apply for a driver's license too? You're not much younger than Hermione are you?"

Hermione had been one of the oldest in her year, almost a full year older than Harry who was the youngest. Draco had also been rather old for the grade, but a few months younger than Hermione.

He thought of the cars, the hot vehicles puffing their exhaust pipes and lazily snaking their way around downtown, their pallid blue silhouettes against the setting sun of the evening dusk. Driving of in the distance along the large road. Of flashing IDs, and maybe just even getting away for a bit. Merlin knows Draco would like to take a car, any car his taste permitted him for the time being, out for a spin sometime, maybe to just get away from the absurdity of the situation and all, just for a bit.

"Yeah, that'll be nice," he said. His birthday was in the holidays, right before school started. Which might have explained his haughty attitude a bit for he was always loaded up with extravagant presents just a few weeks before.

"Would your parents mind-" inquired Mrs Granger.

"No, no. They couldn't be happier," fibbed Draco, not wanting to lose his chance of freedom.

"Well it's settled. Isn't that nice Daniel?" said Mrs Granger, "the two youngsters getting their licenses."

"Not when it's you and I that has to sit with them," boomed Mr Granger, but not at all unkindly so.

"So, you have a good idea of the house now?" asked Hermione once dinner was over.

"Couldn't be better. Thanks for the tour," replied Draco with a small smile before he disappeared to go to his room.


	10. Friends

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 10: Friends

It was a lazy Saturday. Draco was just writing in his logbook after his morning shower. It was a rich blue, darkly metallic and slightly reflective to the light if turned at certain angles. The edges were made out of leather and cool to the touch, the book having the tendency to emit a sharp snap if shut. It had been the book his mother had given him for logbooks and the like once he reached third year. He hadn't used one in his childhood, but his mother had simply said that as you got older, you had more and more thoughts to contain, some of them regarding people, such as first impressions, gut-feelings, intuition, which may seem mindless and meaningless at the time, most turned out to be, but some could become incredibly helpful later on. She said the book was for recording those such thoughts. His father had gifted him several more books for financial log keeping only. Later, his parents had promised him a pensieve for his thoughts, a part of Draco ached for home. He had bet it was this year's birthday he was going to get a pensieve. Among other things.

He flipped through the book several times.

April 17th

_Mother and father sent Giorgi quills, Serena's note-taking parchment, Lavender, Rose and Thyme purfum among other things to aid final year exams. Hope I'm doing well._

January 30th

_Ordinary day. School's restarted again, I'm doing quite well, even though I barely passed Care of Magical Creatures last semester. I think I'll continue to try and give it my all. Crabbe's got the timetable he's wanted and dropped the Transfiguration he's so wanted to drop so that's one person among my group of friends that's happy. I got a letter from mother on January 25th, the connection went through and now father's in frequent contact with one of his old overseas friends again to talk about 'imports' and 'taxes'. I'm afraid._

October 23rd

_Had my first underage drink while at Hogwarts. Nott got it for me at the party. Shot of tequila with citrus slices of some sort. We also tried vodka and gin. Didn't get drunk or hungover, (sadly and unsadly) but woke up fearing we'd get found out. We didn't.  
_

March 11th

_I just started third year at Hogwarts this year, everyone's got their timetables and worked out seating arrangements for the classes, Tracey is still saying the Swedish White-Crown Swan was trying to kiss her on vacation to the alps but she's still got the spots and cycle of serums she's on to sort that out, Quidditch try-outs are this weekend. I practiced hard in the holidays and I think Slytherin seeker's opening goes well with my tactics. Also, Granger, that insufferable know-it-all from Gryffindor has changed this year. I can't put my finger on it._

And his most recent.

June 7th

_Stuck at Granger's house for the holidays because of malfunctioning portkey. Didn't know wizarding connections could be that bad. It's going to be a long ride. But she is different than what I thought she would be._

He had finished penning his most latest, and then snapped the book shut with a sigh, blowing some hair out of his eyes and staring through the window at the all too innocent view of the streets, with the innocuous buildings and the laced curtains in the window opposite, to which a blonde haired girl often frequented, and the sight of what appeared to be some sort of travelling vehicle moving across _the sky_. He frowned, let loose a sigh, and than ran his fingers through his hair, glaring at the light in the trees.

He didn't want to be here. This whole summer was unravelling stupidly and unexpectedly.

First his hopes were dashed that he was going to return home.

Second he was expected to stay at the Granger's residence for the _entire _summer and had to make do.

Third, everything seemed to be sorted out alright, and he was going to integrate into the wizarding community with no difficulty once it was all over but...what was he to do in the hours in between? Stuck here the whole summer, with Hermione living about three metres down the hall, just this little stretch and dip of her muggle suburbia to traverse, the hours stretching between them. She was the only one to really, talk to. The only one to communicate with. To hang out. And this didn't do for disliking or hating someone.

Draco hated Hermione. He wasn't quite sure what exactly she disliked him about (women could be quite confusing he mused), but he knew she didn't like him. He didn't like her either. First year of Hogwarts and she was just loud, loud loud, and in everyone's face arrogant. Never shutting up that mouth of hers, always talking or ravelling about something, always raising her hand in class. Did she not know the virtue of keeping your mouth quiet and not disrupting other people's thought processes? Even worse, she was friends with that Potter.

He didn't like Potter. Hating on your enemies was one thing. But hating on your enemies female friends by virtue of their connection with your enemy, was quite a new low he had never personally achieved.

He didn't like Granger due to _her_, not her connection with Potter. He didn't like that snobby know-it-all who could put him in his place with just a few words. Priss, cross, someone unfun.

But then...around third year, maybe fourth, that had started changing. Things had changed. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he looked at her, and saw not the Hermione Granger he always knew, but someone else entirely. The Yule ball in fourth year certainly changed things. She got cooler. She began talking to more people than just her social crutches Ron and Harry. She spoke to Lavender in third and fourth year, he vaguely remembered seeing them talking or 'gossiping' even, during the time before the Yule Ball and towards the end. She got civil with Parvarti and Padma and was seen talking to them quite a bit and a ginger girl whose name Draco forgot but he knew it wasn't any one of Weasley's relatives. He began to get more friends, slightly more popularity, resources, like she was becoming something else but on the edge. She had started to become interesting in a way.

Draco wondered what this summer was going to be like, and where it was going to lead. Were they going to stay enemies forever, when he felt the slightest inclination of liking or amicability stemming from their interactions in the first few days where she helped him settle down? They got along and matched each other to a certain extent. Long conversations that haven't been had yet emerging from the dark imagination of his mind, gentle bickerings and teasings that they threw at each other as time went on. The irritating, annoying, bash of zeal he received when talking to her sometimes, but yet, something drew on the corners of his mind, and kept him coming back. It was almost alien and unthinkable, but something had changed, the events of the past week or so had bought them closer and he wondered how strange it would be to return to Hogwarts and continue being enemies, or perhaps just friends. Or even something more, but that thought was so bizarre and off-topic he pushed it out of his mind. (What was it like to kiss Hermione though?) The forbidden thought came to mind, and he shoved it away even more, compartmentalising it, before placing his book away and reaching for a copy of occlumency that his father had sent him disguised as a battered copy of a fifth year herbology book. His parents wanted to keep him up in his side studies of occlumency, magic they claimed was useful but wasn't taught at Hogwarts and was going to help him later, and had sent him (unrequested) some copies of the unofficial textbooks for it.

He had it placed on his desk, not bothering to open it yet. His thoughts swirling to another matter altogether.

What was he to tell his friends? For now, it seemed like the summer was stretching endlessly on between them. Just them and this glimmering patch of muggle suburbia, and the azure blue skies of this world. Just them and the days of sweetness and bitterness between them. Most of Draco's friends were on vacation or busy anyways, they usually didn't communicate over the holidays, or perhaps just the once or twice if need be. And he could tell Hermione didn't have any need to tell her magical friends the situation either. For now it was almost entirely secret and coveted - between them, but he wondered what he was to say once the usual thrum and throb of Hogwarts began again.

Would they go back to being enemies? What would he tell his friends? They may expect him to have to keep up a facade of being nice to her out of politeness of staying over at her place during the summer holidays, but what would he really tell? Where to write the next chapter of their story and interaction. What did she even think of it all and what sort of things would pass her lips about him?

Suddenly the logbook, which had been shut but not placed in it's proper spot in his room, jittered as a black shadow fell across it's reflective sheen. He felt a weight and heard the slightest sound of shuffling from behind him. Hermione Granger was standing right behind him, a couple of objects clutched in her grasp.

"Hermione?" he said, confused. He swallowed, quickly straightened out his hair and turned around.

She had a couple of water bottles in her hand, a weathered canister that appeared to advertise the death of all bugs by spraying, some tissues and other stuff. "Here's some water," she said, placing them down, "they don't happen that often. But there's one or two bad heatwaves every summer, my parents heard on the weather forecast that this year it's coming early. So we're expecting a heatwave starting about later today til early tomorrow. Take water with you if you're going out."

Draco nodded, "thanks for the notice. Heatwaves don't touch us in the manor," he explained.

"Oh," Hermione looked affronted, "well it's not too bad in here because we have air conditioning but it can be quite horrible out, and if you have the windows open. Here's some more items my parents thought you might need this summer, they told me to give it to you immediately, so sorry for not knocking," she started dumping the items there, "usually my parents stock up on these things for the guest room every nown and then. They just haven't this holidays yet. Oh, and they wanted you to have some sweets and stuff," she said, scattering a handful of wrapped muggle hard candy and confectionery on Draco's desk.

"I have sweets from home," he said.

"Well now you can have sweets from the Granger household as well," said Hermione with a smile.

"Wait-" he said. Hermione had been halfway across the room and almost out the door.

"Mmm?" she asked, putting one hand on her hip as she raised her eyebrows at him. She probably had other stuff to do besides talking to him, he just hoped none of them were urgent and desperately pressing for her attention right now.

"Stay with me a minute, I'm bored." Oh how he regretted those words the instant they were out.

Slightly less the meaning, just the desperate tone, he thought as he sat and watched the snowflakes dance in his snowglobe of the Switzerland Alps on the shelf.

"Pleased to have your acquaintance Bored," she said, shaking his hand in mock seriousness.

Draco snorted, his charm and glib was starting to rub of on her. Clearly. "Have you thought about what we're going to tell others when we get back?" he asked. Hermione paled.

"Enemies really. Then trapped with each other for the holidays due to a malfunctioning portkey. You have to be dense to think that doesn't change the way others see us," he said.

Hermione's eyes went wide. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and then stared on in the distance, her sight seemingly unvaried. "You mean they think we build a bond, or-" she blushed.

Draco shook his head, "No. They wouldn't think what you're thinking of unless we explicitly made it out to be. But wouldn't you say civil friends is the more befitting way to introduce ourselves? Not talking bad about each other in public, not acknowledging the good either. Just decidedly neutral with a basic sense of friendship from the holidays," he said, thinking of Slytherin and how he would face more social consequences and questioning coming back than she did, and how it was the best outcome for him.

"You really thought this through didn't you?" she asked.

"It's the Slytherin in me," he said.

"I feel like we've worked through our differences sort of. These few days have been tiring-"

"Too tiring-" he agreed.

"But there's something I can't quite put my finger on...you've sobered up..." Hermione said absent-mindedly.

"You've _loosened _up," countered Draco almost immediately. His eyebrows were raised.

Hermione laughed. She supposed she really had been uptight at Hogwarts previously. If she did at all loosen up, she hadn't noticed the changes but she supposed he was claiming he had, now.

She paused and chose her words carefully, "We don't really argue as much as before. I can tolerate your piggish arrogance a little better so that it becomes a mild annoyance and inconvenience in the rear end-"

"You don't annoy me half as much as you used to. It's almost like there are some redeeming qualities afterall," said Draco.

"And we can work together somewhat," mused Hermione, "are we friends from now on?"

"I think if I'm staying here the whole summer, some basic friendship is required to survive," said Draco.

"Friends?" she asked, holding out her hand, a shy and fleeting smile on her mouth, in between her lips, darting, fleeting, evanescent.

Draco felt his own lips contort themselves into a smile as he took her hand, thinking of the past few days, and all the highs and lows and moments in between, as well as the bittersweet banter they had shared, "From this point on, let's be friends," he said.

They shook on it.

"We'd still argue," she said almost immediately after.

"Hopefully not too much," he countered.

"But yeah, friends."

"Friends."

A simple fleeting smile passed between both of them.


	11. Plans

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 11: Plans

"Hermione, I'm so glad you're going out with your friends," said her mum over breakfast that morning. Draco still had a lot of organising and cleaning to do. Hermione had started on some of her Hogwarts unpacking and the like, but she was still just a touch below the usual order she would have preferred. It was looking like a fairly busy next few days or so for them all.

"Yeah..." she said, frowning slightly. She had never really gone to their houses except for birthday parties, a few school assignments here and there, as well as the one time she accidentally locked herself out of her own home and stayed at Cassidy's until her parents came to pick her up later that evening.

She hadn't particularly been to their places too often. It was even less likely now. She had expected a catching up, perhaps a heart-to-heart and 'oh we rescinded our ways and realised that although we included you, we didn't really include you, and want to get to know you further now' to start with a conversation somewhere, a chat in a local cafe perhaps, a group meet somewhere between all of them.

But instead Cassidy and Felicity had texted her asking her if she would like to crash at Cassidy's the next day, and that there was no need to tell adults, her mum in particular, what they were doing beyond 'just hanging' and to keep it under the wraps. They had added her to a group text chat with just the four of them, to which Laura posted her delight at seeing Hermione again after such a long time and a bunch of other happy, welcoming things, so Hermione assumed they all had her number by now. She added theirs back so it was convenient if she needed to get in touch with them in the future, but a part of her was questioning at the invitation.

But she supposed it was nice to catch up with some old muggle friends, particularly those that had generally been nice to her and they shared some pleasant memories too. Maybe I'll talk, and find out more about them and we'll get closer to one another this summer and end up good friends she thought. Maybe they would have more in common than she thought and she would return to Hogwarts with a new set of close friends whom she could talk to about common interests and viewpoints and things everyday.

"I'll just be in my room. Clearing some things about and organising them," said Draco as they were nearing the end of breakfast.

"Sounds good. And remember, if you want some heavy lifting done. Some heavy objects moved, just tell me and Daniel and we'll give you a hand," said Mrs Granger.

"Thanks, but there's no need. As I've said, I'm happy where everything is," said Draco with a slight smile.

"Oh that's lovely. A decent bunch of kids," said Mrs Granger, now turning her attention back to Hermione, "They were all very friendly and well behaved from when I remembered them last."

A little more chit chat and then they finished breakfast. After Hermione did the dishes, Draco returned to his room to sort things out, she changed into something nice, and asked her mum to drive her to Cassidy's house on the way to work to avoid the worst of the heatwave, it was still going on but it would be over soon.

Cassidy's house was about six streets away from Hermione's. They all lived within reach in the same suburb but hers was the closest so far. It was in a street where the houses looked a little different to Hermione's. Cassidy's house was fairly big, a touch bigger than Hermione's if she was accurate about comparisons between them in her mind's eye, decent, standard looking, with some similar features to Hermione's but other different ones as a symbol of their own design. It was just large and sturdy and fairly standard and decent, with a long driveway up the front and a lot of interesting plants and grass lining the way up. Her mum dropped her of at the foot of the driveway, repeated the time she and her dad would be back from work, and then Hermione headed up by herself, carrying a small tote bag with her phone, wallet, water bottle, a spare top, chapstick, a few other things here and there, a little nervously by her side as she went up.

It really was interesting, she thought, eyeing some citrus fruit trees and a sprig of purple and orange orchid flowers that grew by the side. They really did take advantage of the long driveway, she thought.

Once inside she met up with Cassidy, Felicity and Laura, who were already there before her, and headed to her room to talk. Seeing them in the flesh was easier than imagining the prospect of seeing them, and she quickly melted into the usual share and throng of jokes and chatter as they shared tales about where they had been, caught up a little and talked a little bit about themselves and their lives now. Hermione had stuck to the script of her going of to an expensive prep school, but remembering her and Hogwarts' warnings not to talk it up too much lest they draw unnecessary attention to it, she stuck with what she usually said about her school which was that it was interesting and attention-keeping, but hard in some areas and that the people were generally nice, but not going into too much detail about them, and presenting a fairly mundane and typical existence one might expect at a slightly preppy boarding school. Whether it was her delivery, or her reputation as a straight-forward, bookish sort of person she left in primary school, she didn't face much difficulties in being asked particularly in depth or tricky questions about school and she was easily able to get away with the usual image she painted of Hogwarts.

Conversation flowed easily, and Hermione found herself laughing and sharing some of the good gossip about things and happenings as she hung out with her old friends, or the people who were closest to friends. She found herself sort of momentarily looking around and taking it all in, taking in how everything had changed, as she listened.

Cassidy was a taller than the average person with fluffy blonde hair that was shoulder length and blue eyes that held a bit of a spark to them. She was thin and because she was so chatty and friendly and sometimes hunched a little, she usually had the effect of being taken for shorter than she was. She had been the most friendly, and open, and easy-going, chatty warm persona Hermione remembered in primary school, who easily made friends with everyone in the class, including her. She seemed to be enjoying all secondary school had to offer and doing well in life. Really, Hermione thought, people were just many different things and thoughts and aspirations put together in one. Everyone's so fleshed out and it takes a long time to know someone. She didn't really feel as if she knew these girls at all, but it was nice being asked to hang all the same.

Previously Hermione had more or less thought of the three as a sort of unit. A sort of supply of nice-and-friendly-people-TM, that asked her out to birthday parties or offered for her to be in their group when no one else had, or that they all must be close and had a close friendship group of three. But now she was seeing that there was a little more nuance to that. They didn't even go to the same school anymore. Cassidy and Felicity went to the same school, whilst Laura went to a different secondary school. Cassidy and Felicity had been close friends, Laura friends for the three had mostly been the happy, friendly, warm ones during primary school. But Cassidy and Felicity more so, and not even that close in the bigger friendship group involving more girls Cassidy and Felicity had been friends with. Laura was in another friendship group, she had sometimes hung out with Cassidy and Felicity due to mutual friends in both groups and similarities in personality, but even just from chatting and catching up, Hermione could see Laura's loyalties lay elsewhere with another group of girls (and probably guys, but they hadn't mentioned any names probably as to not overwhelm Hermione) and that probably neither Cassidy nor Felicity were each other's closest friends either in their friendship group. Really, it seemed like the only common bond they shared was knowing her.

Felicity was a short girl with tan skin, frizzy blonde and brown hair and the clearest blue eyes. She was normal in build and was very intelligent and inquisitive. She was thoughtful and often caught the holes in one's plans and the most easily suspicious or edgy one of them. She had been very polite and open and warm and friendly in primary school, perhaps more out of courtesy than the others. She had a solid group of friends and was doing well, chattering about a bunch of things she found interesting.

Laura was tall, with an oval face and straight light brown hair in a ponytail. She had warm chocolate eyes and was interested in the humanity subjects at school and sport. She had been just as friendly and chatty and warm as Cassidy had been as kids, but seemed to be sharp and somewhat hesitating if she caught a deal that didn't suit her.

They had all been very nice and welcoming to Hermione. That meet up had been nothing but nice so far and Hermione had enjoyed chatting to them.

"So we're getting to the age where we're going to drink! Party! Driver's license! Boys and the like yeah!" said Cassidy, to which both Felicity and Laura cheered and looked a little pointedly at Hermione. Felicity had whipped her phone out some moments ago and looked on the verge of texting something long, as she appeared to scroll through and give one or two word replies or react to something.

"Oh yes. There's been a couple of organised parties with some alcohol that people who have the penchant for, sneak in, and drinking games and the like too, at my dorm's common room," said Hermione, not adding that she was usually the prefect that had been confiscating the alcohol.

"Ah yes. Seven minutes in heaven, beer pong, shot roulette...to celebrate school's OUT and the summer being in suc-CESS-ion-" Cassidy said.

"YeeEAH!" screamed Laura somewhat loudly, fist-pumping the air.

"We've never...really been-_been_ in a nightclub experience, have you? I mean, we haven't gotten some alcohol, gotten drunk, gone up to the rooftop to take shots, grinded downstairs, made out in the basement, sex on the rooftop, late night one-night stands...we haven't really. We haven't done that! We just haven't done that. I _can't _believe we haven't done that! And I don't daresay you haven't done that either right?" said Cassidy, nudging Hermione in the ribs a little, "I heard boarding school parties can be wiiiild."

"No, can't say I have. I'm just as surprised as you are," said Hermione, thinking of the added bonus muggle parties and party culture seemed to bring in contrast to Hogwarts. She supposed they would be a bit looser, if it weren't for the fact that it was one of the only boarding schools for it's purpose (magic), quite far away from possibly the closest thing to a nightclub (Hogsmeade, which was only open during the day every second weekend or something for third year students and above) and had well...magic as a way to guard it. Which probably altered it from the usual party experience in schools. Though now that she thought back, she seemed to recall Fred and George pulling up some things she didn't catch them in the act of, and the Slytherins having greater luck at converting their common room to some sort of party ground if the rumours were correct...

"Darn right? I told you Hermione couldn't have and wouldn't think we're losers, even though she has impressive boarding school parties," she said, looking at Felicity and Laura with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah, I would have shot myself in the foot if you did," said Felicity a little dryly.

"Zanna and her friends can't even even get alcohol at a nightclub without getting carded. And Zanna has access to everything...," said Cassidy, "If even someone like Zanna can't, no way Hermione can..." she finished, though Hermione got the impression it wasn't entirely a negative judgement of her.

"Yeah, and Delilah, Isla, Andrea, Autumn, and Emery have been waiting on getting alcohol at a nightclub for ages. You're meant to be sixteen or over, but you can get fake IDs," explained Felicity, her voice coming out in an excited whisper, "and we've been to La Fraouche - that's the main one highschool kids go to, but they don't have alcohol as a sort of serve-yourself. You can only get it from the bar and they're very stringent with IDs there...more so than entering..." finished of Felicity.

"It was about to go up in flames actually. We were _never _going to go to a nightclub and get drinks. We were _never _going to get drunk and party and grind and make-out. We were never going to get to do any of that, and we were so sad when we talked about it at our last sleepover..." said Laura, picking up the story, "and it was all very sad and anguish and then..."

"We were running on our wits end! Very low and dejected. About to cry. Ruin the whole summer. And then, guess what Cassidy said?" said Felicity, her eyes glinting as everyone else's was on Hermione.

"Err..." she trailed of. She would say she was a little shocked. But shock had greeted her, KOd her and already left the ring ages ago in the conversation. She would guess what they were going to say though, and was hesitant about providing the alcohol to a couple of underage drinkers (minors), as much as her sixteenth birthday was really, in just a few days.

"We said-" Felicity screamed, and this was the part where all three girls screamed together.

"What about Hermione!"

"Yes! Hermione's old! She's old for our grade so she's much closer than we are! You should come to the club with us, get drunk, go for a night out-" Felicity was chattering excitedly, a smile to her face.

"She just means to get a small amount of alcohol. You're the only one with the legitimate ID that wouldn't get carded. And we'll take care of ourselves well," said Cassidy, picking up on Hermione's unease, "some of the others in the group are more into things like mixing drinks, adding their own secret ingredients, once they already have the base. But for the most part, us three aren't really like that..."

"We wouldn't pass out in your car or anything," said Laura, "it's just for curiosity or novelty's sake. We know how to take care of ourselves well and we're not going to drink until we pass out or anything."

"At most you'd just be helping us have a good time. It's not anything more. But I can understand if you don't want to..." said Felicity, and all three heads nodded.

"Yeah, I mean. It's a tough decision. I can definitely understand if you don't want to..." trailed away Cassidy whilst Laura looked inquisitively for her reaction.

Hermione swallowed, feeling the weight of it on her. Hearing the visual images they painted of the trip, the ease and fun of it. And somehow, knowing that these girls were genuinely good friends out to have a good time, that she mostly had a good relationship with before she left, and that if she did join, she would most likely be genuinely invited to the nightclub and they would probably try to ensure she had a good time. Afterall, she didn't _really _believe they were capable of getting drunk to the point of passing out or needing hospitalisation, and she somehow knew, it was ridiculous to argue even further. To even fabricate obscure reasons to prevent them from doing so. They were right in a sense. She wasn't going to be doing any real damage. Just helping a bunch of eager peers whom she knew in primary school who were younger than her have fun for a couple months or so before one of them turned.

"Alright. I don't technically turn for a couple more days, but I will then and I'm sure I can manage it."

She didn't know what it was that made her say yes. Why these people and not the eager first years wanting a sip of firewhiskey that Fred or George had snuck in at the common room, in fact, that was maybe partly the reason behind her sternness, that the common room was shared between people of all ages whereas she was sure muggle nightclubs had a closer age range permitted, despite the prevalence of underage IDs. Or maybe it was something about her muggle friends, the girls who planned and plotted and schemed and somehow put together a deception such as fake IDs to get into a nightclub in the first place, and from the sounds of it, have a pretty good time sans alcohol that they were wanting to experience it drunk. Maybe they seemed more mature in a way. Maybe that was why she said yes.

But eitherway, Hermione found herself saying yes and the rest was all history.

"WOO! I knew she wouldn't let us down!" said Felicity, slamming her fist on a nearby table.

"I'm all pumped!" screamed Laura, happy and shit.

Hermione grinned. A part of her was getting excited at the prospect of nightclubs in a way she had never before.

"Okay, I'm just going to text the group. Yes yes, we're through!" said Felicity, banging out a response on her phone, "Zach, Lars, and Neo can make it too! Malcolm and Rocco are seeing if they can..."

"So the date's set then We need a couple of days to sort arrange everything so it all works out..." said Laura, looking at something on Felicity's phone screen, then she straightened up and grinned, "bring your friends! You have unlimited +1's Hermione! Bring anyone that you're friends with. If you've made any friends besides us in this neighbourhood! Any of your crowd are also our crowd and our friends!" she said. And so the rest of the day lapsed into talk and chatter about boyfriends, and nightclub attire.

Cassidy busted out her old manicure set and they did each other's nails for the nightclub and tried new hairstyles and talked about what was appropriate wear or what wasn't for Hermione's benefit (she told them that although they had parties, this particular boarding school was situated far from any nightclubs in the surrounding district area so there wasn't much of that) and had a generally good and warm time, before Hermione left with a fuzzy feeling in her heart.

She bumped into Draco coming her way up the stairs that afternoon.

"So what have you been up to today, Hermione?" he asked. He had been bored and basically spent the majority of the day organising and sort of tidying his room. He still had a bit to go but had given it up around the later hours of noon as it was getting too tedious to work on it anymore that day, and Hermione coming back was probably the most interesting thing in his day so far.

"Catching up. Laura's got a car even though she can't drive yet, and Felicity once bailed a friend out of jail - overnight holding for a petty crime - recently. It's interesting news catching up...Anyway. We made plans to go to a nightclub. As a guest of the house, would you like to come with us?"

_You literally didn't need to ask that_. Hermione realised a moment later with a pang. It was because the only guests that she ever really had staying overnight were her cousins. Due to the similar age difference and the fact that they all grew up together and had fun, she usually included them in everything her and her family did that day. It was out of instinct from many years of speaking to guests, standing in almost the exact spot Draco was, in front of the guest room, that ingrained it in her to ask guests to do everything together out of instinct. But she realised a little too late that she needn't ask Draco the same thing. _You don't have to ask him next time_, she thought with a crushing twang of cringe, but it would be rude to take it back now.

"Sure I guess...something to do after sitting around all day," said Draco loftily, turning around and idly wandering around the room, as if it were nothing. Hermione doubted he even understood what a nightclub was. "I don't want to think about 'where should I put this group of things' ever again for another several days," he said with a sigh.

"Alright. I'll tell you all the details once everything's been finalised," she said, glancing at her phone and the current absence of text messages, "oh, and don't tell my mum and dad where exactly we're going..."

Draco threw a glance at her, though it might have been more surprise that she would be saying that, rather than the actual nature of clandestine affairs itself. To which he seemed to navigate with a sort of ease, as if he'd done it before. She shuddered to think what Draco or his friends would get up to. He did seem to walk with a certain sort of grace and maturity that blended into that sort of thing all too well.

"It was more at their insistence...they made me swear on it before I left, I didn't think it up," she said by means of explanation.

Draco smirked, "oh. That kind of outing," he said, his gaze flickering to the window, past the trees, the skyline, where his gaze just sort of hovered there from what Hermione could see, and he regarded a point intensely but not quite there in space where he was looking at, with a cold-hearted sort of smirk. He looked back, his eyes on Hermione for a short time, before flickering away, before he said, "your friends sound cool."

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading it and sticking with this story up til now. I'm so sorry for the sheer length of time that's gone on without an update TT_TT, and I'm really grateful if this story still has readers...including you *hearts* Thank you for reading this, and before I get on a few necessary things, pwetty pwease review? It would just make me feel so happy to see a response for a story that's been left for what I reckon is honestly a long time and see that there's still interest for it.

Few notes and things:

-A lot of the rules and things with alcohol or driving etc, are made up to allow this story to flow better. Nonetheless, they're all rules that are true somewhere around the world. So it's not entirely made up. Just I took inspiration from how it's done in different countries to make the best situations for this story.

-A lot of the technology/details weren't actually true to Hermione/Harry/Ron's time out of Hogwarts as I believe Harry's schooling years mostly took place in the '90s. So it's not fully accurate to the timeline, but I made it like this to explore a certain genre that I wanted to, and I think it's working fine as of now. Just treat it like a modern day AU I guess.

-I hope I don't need to say this, but please don't actually do anything mentioned in this story that doesn't sound right. It's a story where things are hyped up for the drama/intense storytelling ahahaha, but none of it's meant to be encouragements on what to actually do. Alcohol can have really bad effects, especially if you're inexperienced and don't know how it hits you yet, and it can ACTUALLY REALLY quickly ruin your life if you drink irresponsibly and get drunk and do stupid things. Same with underage IDs. (I'm not encouraging, just writing a genre...) Just cause you read it here doesn't mean it's "okay" and keep in mind it's just for the story. I know this, and I think the majority of you know this but just putting it out there in case.

That's all for now! Peace out and hope y'all having a great day/night/whatever :P

-WhymsicalBell


	12. Red Lobster

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 12: Red Lobster

Living at the Granger's wasn't half bad, Draco thought. Or at least, things were improving from the initial dramas of the beginning. He had finished unpacking and organising everything in the space of a few days, he hadn't done much else, but at least, his room was properly 'broken in' and maintained so that it actually resembled a little of his room at home. Of course, Draco was never a fan of neatness and would often throw things on the floor, or mess them up and leave it for the servants to as he put it, 'follow the blueprint' of his room. But this was the first time he made a home there, and things tended to be organised at the beginning. He might've sorted and arranged everything out of comfort and homesickness too. It was comforting to go through one's own belongings and sort them when trapped in a new place.

But now, it was mostly done. He groaned at the last couple of letters he had received in the mail from his parents. They wanted him reading, or 'diluting your perspective with magic again' as if fear of living in a muggle place made him any less muggle. He would have to see to that unless he wanted a howler from his mother. Something Narcissa had always deemed beneath her but had indeed threatened once upon a time. He didn't want Hermione to see him with a howler.

And then...mischief could happen.

He was pulled out of mid-afternoon musings by Hermione knocking on his door.

"Come in," he said.

She pulled it open, "get dressed in something decent Draco. We're going out to a restaurant tonight."

"The occasion?" he murmured, grabbing some clothes from the drawers.

"My birthday," she said simply, "my parents usually take me to a restaurant or throw something small every year."

"Oh? Happy birthday," he said.

"It actually yesterday," she replied, "just it was more convenient to get a reservation today. Anyway, get ready fast. We're leaving soon, we've been to all the nearby restaurants through the years so it's a bit of a drive out..."

Muggles, it turned out. Celebrated their children's birthdays with as much happiness and intent as witches and wizards did. Hermione's didn't garish her with as much useful gifts and lavish presents as Draco had been used to. He remembered childhood days where his presents pile were so high it almost stretched to the ceiling, to years when it almost took up the entire room, or when it had taken up almost two small rooms. To the hours and hours spent unwrapping, a lot of them at the envy of his peers during his younger childhood when he had Nott, Crabbe, Goyle or Parkinson over for the occasion in his pre-Hogwarts years, with a nostalgic sort of gee that he remembered now. Except he suspected Hermione's lack of his grandeur presents didn't have anything to do with her parents loving her less, but just having less money to spend on things. Of course, they were very decent and upper middle class, as Draco had long been aware of, but he supposed they had less disposable income to well..._dispose_ of, so that might've been a factor. You might think it was hard for a pureblood to distinguish between love and wealth but trust me, Draco knew all too well.

They had reached the restaurant in a little under an hour and a half, with a shortcut on the fast-flowing motorway.

When they got out of the car, a car - a fast moving vehicle that traversed freely down the motorway - I have to get one of those, Draco thought, one of these days, they went to handsome brown and grey building on the rocks facing a water's view by the lake. It was tall and full of huge brown boards, with the occasional grey walls and 'Red Lobster' in white letters across a black panel with a red lobster near it. Inside it was heavily lit up. The outside was full of ceiling lights, lanterns, string lights, as well as an outdoors patio facing the water's edge where an abundance of families ate and chattered and waiters and waitresses rushed to serve them. The air was warm and the atmosphere aglow with lights, cheery chatter and light-flowing laughs as they reached a table near the centre back of the restaurant.

The lights were bright, the atmosphere happy as many families talked and chattered, the air a mix of mellifluous voices. It turned out to be a seafood restaurant, which Hermione briefly described as food from animals and plants from the oceans. Draco had eaten seafood before on numerous family holidays around the globe, but his day to day staple in the mostly landlocked locations of England he resided in, didn't conveniently include seafood, and Hogwarts had no seafood so it wasn't a usual thing for him.

They ordered a nice dinner of lobster, oysters, battered fish, chips, as well as sides and her parents even let them both have a standard glass of champagne. Even though Draco wasn't sure they were a hundred percent sure he was over age, they seemed to turn a blind eye for him on this occasion. It was pleasant. There was a little more talk on the days, the activities they had spent time doing since Hermione came back, light hearted talk about future summer plans. They did ask Draco a couple more questions over the beginning of dinner. All they knew about him thus far was that he was a classmate of Hermione's at Hogwarts who'd been hit with a malfunctioning portkey and unfortunately (though they reassured him it was fortunate) needed to remain here for the summer due to regulations.

Both Mr and Mrs Granger at some point said how fortunate it was, for Hermione didn't have many friends over (this he wasn't surprised to hear. Hogwarts was a boarding school afterall, and he supposed besides staying with each other over the holidays it was difficult to meet up with friends for day or so across the wide stretches of England they all came from. Add in the lack of floo powder and apparation he was sure the muggle world didn't have, and he could easily see how difficult it was), he was spared by floo powder, side-apparation and magical transportation and close family friends with fellow students so he was never alone. He had never seen it from the opposite perspective now, a little nagging thought was starting to form in his brain. _What if they were only friends because their families were friends? _But then again, he was good friends with Nott, the two had shared pretty much the same views on everything and had a good camaraderie together. But still, the nagging thought once started, wouldn't abate without further consideration. He turned it of as if shutting the water of a tap and compartmentalised it for now, turning his attention back to the night.

Mr and Mrs Granger were just remarking how Hermione didn't have any friends over, and that they had only met Harry, Ron, Lavender, Pavarti, and a smattering of other names of Gryffindors or students from other houses Draco was surprised to learn Hermione had been friends with. Though he supposed he didn't see everything from his Slytherin dorm nor housemates, and that Hermione would have a few more friends or people she was friendly with besides Harry and Ron, that he never took notice of. They commented, saying how they knew it was common given her boarding school situation and they didn't really blame her, but compared to hearing stories of her peers social lives from their parents when they did bump into them over the years, it did leave them feeling a little sparse even though it wasn't necessarily Hermione's fault, and how they considered having an exchange student over one summer just for the purpose of someone her age to talk to. Commenting how they usually had a guest room ready, and how they were fortunate enough people to be able to afford the privilege of having people stay over, and it was actually a really fortunate arrangement the portkey sent him there and not anybody else's neighbourhood.

Draco quickly responded and humorously validated Mr and Mrs Grangers negative perceptions of Harry and Ron that they told Draco and asked whether he happened to know these boys. He quickly confirmed Hermione's gripes about them (honestly, Weasley's manners did leave a bit to be desired, and Harry could be oblivious at times) and that he felt it too, to which Mr and Mrs Granger laughed and said it was a relief to know it wasn't just Hermione's picky nature when it came to academics and the like that was causing this perception. Draco did however, also mention that he had not much to do with them, they weren't his usual crowd so his overall opinion of them could be questioned he supposed. "But they're overall good boys, would you say?" inquired Mrs Granger pointedly, to which Draco realised they probably had some fears about Hermione's primary friends being two boys, Potter and Weasley. Potter and Weasley. The names together were like a scar burned in the back of his mind.

He hadn't liked them because they supported Dumbledore, and the side of the Light in this war that he knew all too well, and they were against his side. His childhood perceptions so turned against them that he realised short of surface animosity, and animosity indeed it was, he never knew them beyond a vague symbol to hate or dislike. Still, surface animosity and hostility there had been, and plenty of it.

He wanted to say something bad.

But he knew Mr and Mrs Granger were probably hoping for a fellow male student's perspective on those two. Someone in the 'boys club' to tell them how they were perceived among the boys.

He still wanted to air his grievances, as petty as he recognised it might be, at them.

But he also didn't know Mr and Mrs Granger's perspective on the war, or whether they knew at all. He tried to hide his frown. He had never thought what it would be like for Hermione. Having to decide how much to tell her parents and the awkward tightrope she may have felt she was perched on at times.

And try as he might, he didn't know how much of his hatred or dislike towards Potter and Weasley centred around them as individuals, or on the opposite side of the war. Two opposite sides of the curtain. Antithesis of each other on polarising corners of the veil.

He couldn't quite separate them and didn't want to open a greater can of worms with Mr and Mrs Granger about wizarding sociopolitics, especially considering the warnings from the ministry. Come to think of it. _Who's idea was this to send him to a muggleborn's household during the middle of the war? _He knew it was an accident, but there had been a new edge to his he realised, and that now was not exactly the best time for this mix-up to transpire, or to be exploring the muggle suburbia, sprawled out at his feet, that he so chanced to get the opportunity to explore, this summer.

"They're decent types. My mates and I aren't exactly on the best terms with them, having run into them, had the usual altercations," Draco swallowed, feeling momentarily tongue-tied, as much as he disliked Potter and Weasley, he saw to some extent Mr and Mrs Granger's real fears about Hermione having only male friends as the closest and really, didn't want to add an unnecessary dimension of fear that wasn't there before, "on the sporting field and in the classrooms that I suppose students have. But they are genuinely good types, heart in the right place, decent mates to each other, the other girls and Hermione," he said, remembering Potter and Ron sniggering or laughing together about things in between classes during the Hogwarts years. Hermione sometimes joining in. The 'other girls' bit might've been a bit of a stretch, his vague memories of them talking to other Gryffindors and generally getting along with them might be more attributed to Gryffindor's fierce warmth and welcoming tendencies (a lot of which he had thought unnecessarily pointless) than real friendship but he decided they didn't need to know.

To Draco's immense relief, Mr and Mrs Granger looked relieved, dropped the topic, though not before talking about Harry's immense sporting prowess and Ron's jaw-dropping humour, to which Draco forced himself to cough agreements to, and then asking a bit more about him.

Previously, they had just known him as the student from the different house come to stay at Hermione's place due to unfortunate circumstances, had the vague impression he was skilled in his studies and motivated and lived a fairly normal schooling life in line with what boys at Hogwarts usually did, but this time they asked a little more about him. He learnt that although they were very aware of Hogwarts, Hermione had likened a lot of subjects and concepts to muggle analogies, so although they knew the wizarding equivalent, they were very comfortable to hear about it in terms of muggle analogies, especially outside. By the end of it they had the impression that he liked 'chemistry' and had quite good marks to boast of, to which Mr Granger said that their names were often next to each other as they were usually tied in marks or close in the final end of year academic lists, which Hermione had 'happened to get a look' at. To which Draco minutely raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who blushed and tried to pretend she hadn't cared enough to 'happen to get a look' at the end of the beginning years, and said that Hogwarts taught interesting subjects and there were many competent and capable people in the grade. They knew he liked sports and 'fighting classes', to which Draco had said it was necessary to have due to living in a boarding school away from civilisation and having sketchy roads, and that he was good at them.

Mr Granger then commented that he didn't look like much of a fighter but he'd met many a good underdog in his time that surprised him. To which Draco responded it was mostly about technique, and that some of it could be dangerous and not civilised methods of fighting you would want to witness, so it wasn't taught for demonstration and that he would only use it if the situation really needed it be. To which both Mr and Mrs Granger were satisfied more or less with his answer.

They knew he was relatively good at 'physics', and 'home economics'. He liked sports and was a huge fan of several big sporting teams in the real world version of the campus sports they played, often spending a lot of time and energy cheering for them. His speciality was 'chemistry', he was relatively good at 'physics' and 'home economics' and liked 'fighting class'. He wasn't committed to anything post graduation but may pursue 'home economics' under the footsteps of his father, to which Hermione raised an eyebrow, thinking that something got lost in translation for she didn't envision Draco to be the type of person that liked cooking and cleaning for a living but didn't comment further. Chemistry was the easy muggle equivalent of potions, transfiguration physics because they both involved concepts of travel through three-dimensional space. Fighting class had been defence against the dark arts, and charms had been home economics as a fair amount of the charms were centred around managing household tasks, much like muggle classes of home economics. All subjects Draco got a NEWT in. Flying had been morphed under sport.

They sensed he was not exactly dull nor stupid, though he had not been talking particularly to impress. He did a number of additional activities around the school such as helping tutor the younger years in chemistry, was prefect of his dorm as with Hermione, and seemed to live a pretty fleshed out life. Just like all people did. They sensed a hint of bitterness in him, and though they couldn't quite put a finger on it, a need to prove himself.

Not an uninteresting person, they thought, but like all people, there was more that lay below the surface that wasn't anybody's entitlement to access. Pleased with having gotten to know Draco a little further, they talked about pleasant or fun memories they had with Hermione growing up, or other sweet reminiscent things about the past. He tuned it out, not thinking there was much to add and like his input was at all needed. The dinner wrapped up with a waitress bringing out a funfetti birthday cake topped with lit candles. To which the rest of the diner momentarily shut up and sang a sleepy chorus of Happy Birthday, mostly the people nearby and others further away hushing and glancing a bit to see what the commotion was, just like the other Happy Birthdays there were that night. The song finished with a slow chorus, the nearby tables clapped and cheered before turning back to their meal as Hermione blew out the candles. Then the waiter produced plastic plates, knives and forks and they each had a slice, before the night was quickly over and Mr and Mrs Granger went to pay.

Draco was starting to feel like he was part of the muggle life and world to some extent, and like he would be sad to see it gone, almost. It was a wonder what total immersion did to you.

"So what was that about home economics?" asked Hermione as they went to wait outside the door for her parents.

"My father's job..." was doing nothing whilst earning _some_thing, Draco had explained, not needing to go any further into that to get across the point his family earnt more wealth simply through their current. Hermione nodded, she had guessed Lucius Malfoy did something like that, so she wasn't all that surprised to get the confirmation. Whilst leaving a lot of free time to do whatever, Draco missed the part where the key focal point of Lucius' interest was summoning the dark lord (who had already been summoned by the way, as he remembered all too well two summers ago, but that was another part that was compartmentalised away), but that included additional hobbies of their own interest. Some members had been interested in dragons, other plants, others economics, well, all members of the Malfoy family were capable in economics to some extent, but special interest. Since charms was a broad subject that encompassed a lot, and wasn't a speciality subject which he would have had to give more serious consideration of before proclaiming it was his ambition, it was the general broad sweep of magic he might decide to practice or study in his spare time, after his father.

Hermione giggled and said that home economics, although it correlated to charms, usually meant cooking, cleaning and managing a household to muggles.

To which Draco responded it was exactly what was taught at home, especially in pureblood families, as witches and wizards didn't appear to have 'home economics' in their curriculum, and that managing a household he would be happy to do so, and cooking was an art if done right was well worth the time.

Hermione grinned in an exasperated 'must you always contradict me' manner and asked now that he knew the _muggle_ definition of home economics, would Draco still like to do that in the full sense of the word.

To which Draco laughed and said merlin no, he'd have to think about it.

Mr and Mrs Granger emerged from the building some time later, and they all headed to the car. They turned the corner and said goodbye to Red Lobster with a flourish as it quickly became out of view after some green and golden leaved trees went by, and soon they were heading home.

That wasn't bad, Draco thought. My first real experience somewhere formal in the muggle world. And it wasn't. Bad.

* * *

**Author's Note: Turns out I'd forgotten that Hermione's birthday is in September, which a wonderful reviewer reminded me, I didn't want to delete this chapter so it's still up but I just wanted to state that her birthday isn't actually in June, it was an error on my part and not to confuse any readers. Please review! **


	13. Austere Glances

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 13: Austere Glances

The days ticked by since Hermione's birthday. Draco had finished sorting his room and was just feeling like home, despite his aversion to sorting another merlin anything. Hermione's friends had called with the plans and they were all going to the nightclub that night.

"What's a nightclub?" asked Draco. Hermione had managed to tell her parents that she was going over for dinner at Laura's*, because Laura lived the furthest away so it was most likely her parents would never bother to check up on her, or drive to surprise pick her up, and that Laura's mum was going to be driving them back. Even though they were all going to Cassidy's to touch up (she was told to get into her main outfit and hair and makeup and everything at home), and then get a ride through Andrea's older brother Arden, to the club district and probably a ride through someone's older sibling back. All of Cassidy and Felicity's friends, as well as a few of Laura's and only four boys, were joining them. Overall there was seventeen people in the group. They were going to be arriving back somewhere near 11, Hermione was going to tell her mum they stayed a bit later than expected after dinner and that it was all in all, a good time.

Since Hermione was older now and perhaps going to friend's houses for dinner was something older children did, as well as the fact that they were boggled down with taxes these few days, her parents didn't question it and genuinely thought they were going over for dinner. She felt different. The prospect of going to a nightclub made her feel more grown-up and alive than anything else did. Rather like the moments just before the Yule ball.

Hermione explained what it was to Draco.

"Sweet. Liquor at the bar, girls on the dance floor, sex on the roof," he said, raising his eyebrows and letting out a long, slow wolf whistle.

Hermione frowned, "you're underage. You'll be carded."

"Granger, Granger..." Draco said, moving closer until he was just towering over her, his hands on her lower back and a smirk on his face, "alcohol has a way of finding it's way into my hands when I want it to. Afterall, I'm underage at Hogwarts too, and did I spent the last three years sober at the Slytherin parties? _No_."

"You drank in third year?" she asked, a little horrified.

"That was child's play. One light beer doesn't do much. I thought since I was old enough for Hogsmeade, I was old enough to have a drink. Have _you_ ever drank?" Now he was the one looking worried.

Hermione blushed and looked away, feeling some heat on her face and suddenly realising how close they were. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. She knew he was just playing her, and just playing around by being all close and stuff, in lieu of the atmosphere before going to a nightclub, but...

"I'm not the good girl you think I am. I would answer butterbeer in Hogsmeade too, but that's _barely _scratching the surface," she said, not wanting to come of immature or silly, in Draco's eyes. She didn't know when or why it mattered, just that she seemed to breathe in happy ease when Draco was content, seemed to draw back in moments of cringe whenever Draco thought her lesser, and just plainly, didn't want him to think of her as a loser. As much as it was irrational. Fuck rationality, she thought, everything had already been irrational now. Draco coming over...staying for so long...their paths woven together...them going to the nightclub. Things already stopped making sense ages and ages ago.

"Oh. Of course. You've changed...you're not the good little girl Hermione everyone thinks you were. You can probably fuck and flirt too." Draco was looking at Hermione with a deep sort of intensity. She had the feeling he really wasn't in belief that she was just the one-dimensional, goody-two-shoes who couldn't do anything fucking cool he always thought she was. Or maybe never had. But all she knew was that she was smiling inside, her heart thumping vividly in her chest at this moment, he was so close to her in this little patch of suburbia of her muggle childhood home she hadn't even planned on sharing with him.

Without knowing what she was thinking, and perhaps with a little bit of Gryffindor courage, she stuck out her tongue at him.

The world seemed to burn back and white and red, he smirked and flickered his austere glance over her. She felt so fucking good and she didn't know why.

"There's more to you than lies at the surface..." was all he said, looking at her. Suddenly Hermione felt very grown up. When was the last time she had feelings like this? Was it with Krum at the Yule Ball?

"Just don't," he said, leaning ever the more closer and staring at her strongly with his gaze cocky gaze, as if expecting her to be very bit as grown-up and chill about the whole thing as he was, even though she was the one that was more involved in the planning than he had been, "make me call your bluff," he hissed between closed teeth.

And with that he turned and walked away. He honestly seemed a natural at this sort of thing.

"I don't need to tell you what to wear now...do I?" asked Hermione.

"I only have one concern," said he, flicking his austere glance back at her.

She grinned warily at him, "what?" she asked.

"Wear something sexy," he said flatly. She felt shocked, looking at him, feeling like he put one bar over her head she could never quite reach. She had aimed for pretty/beautiful with the Yule Ball. She'd never worn sexy before. But something about the way Draco said it, made her feel as if she could. Even though she hadn't ever before.

He smirked and winked at her. She blinked back, then said, "meet me out here at 5!" before he shut the door and she was left finding her way back into her room to find clothes to wear. Cassidy and the others had given her a more than generous run-through on how to dress for a nightclub. She should feel at ease, but yet. She collapsed against the wall of her bedroom, staring at the door which lead to the hallway, which would eventually lead to Draco's room, thinking of him hot against her at close quarters, his arrogant little smirk ever so, _still _present on his face, the cold plunge of his intense blue-grey eyes and all his stupid games with the touching and the requests and the 'I did this before many times with every single girl in Slytherin' bona fide expertise he seemed to have, that she _knew _didn't translate into anything _fucking real_. Oh why. Did he have to be so good at these games? Whatever they were.

Without another angsty thought, savagely pushing them out of her mind, she turned her attention back on what to wear, rewinding her memory back to Cassidy and Felicity's guidelines.

When they were done, they met each other outside the hall. Her parents were preoccupied with taxes these past few days, so they remained in their room and didn't really get a close inspection of them before they announced they were leaving. Hermione and Draco tried to play indifference whilst they grabbed their items and headed downstairs for the ride, all the while throwing hidden, secretive austere glances at each other. Temperatures running ice cold and devil hot all within the same room, ice-fire and sizzling air, as they both tried to play the indifferent, heading downstairs.

She had let her hair be it's natural wild self, some tendrils soft near the middle of her hair, some tendrils hard and a clearly defined wisp framing her face, Draco noted. But it was slightly more teased up than usual, taking it's natural wild self to another level. She had the barest of make-up, that was enough to do the trick but not too much. The tiny hint of mascara and cat-eye on Hermione was haunting. She wore a neon yellow sleaveness top which was big and poofy at the top, only to be tucked in tightly, into a pair of high-waisted black skirt which ended at the mid-thigh. She used to be a bookish nerd in the junior years, thought Draco, but time had changed her ever so slightly, and there was a flash of hip and leg as Draco let his austere glance rest on her, all too shortly before ripping it away, not wanting to get caught. She seemed grown, mature, ever so slightly sexy, an ugly ducking turned swan. Draco swallowed and felt his scalp burn and tingles down his spine as they entered the living room, heading towards the car, striations in his vision as headlights beamed through the windows and ran their strips of light across the ceiling.

Hermione felt hot and flustered, and she wasn't even in the nightclub yet, as she tried not to let her fugitive austere glances of Draco be caught. He had slicked his hair back ever so slightly, and combed it so the middle top part was sticking straight up in a carefree sort of bunch. He wore a glossy black leather jacket that was tightly fitted and had an onus of buttons and pockets all throughout the design, it shined every time a sliver of light ran across it's glossy reflective material. In such contrast to the striking black, he wore a white t-shirt underneath and tight black jeans which had the unintended effect of showing of long legs and height.

They arrived at the car, greeting everyone and feeling the cold night wind rush through their hair through the open window as they buckled their seatbelts and got ready for the big event of the night - the nightclub - after a mind-numbing agonising evening pretending to be indifferent, all whilst throwing hidden, austere glances at each other.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing in the past few chapters since I restarted this story and went through a posting streak again. I'm forever grateful for the people that reviewed and encourage you to review if you have something to say! I'm not sure if I ever said so before, but I put a fair amount of time and energy in this story, and it makes me really happy to see what others have to say about it. I don't want to pressure you to review if you don't feel comfortable, but if you're on the verge of reviewing or not sure whether to, this is a PSA saying I love and appreciate all reviews and would highly appreciate any, even just an 'update soon' is encouraging as it lets me know there's still interest for this story. So review away C': (I hate how ffnet doesn't let you type certain symbols lol. That's the closest I could get to a happy/appreciative face? If you see nothing it means ffnet censored that lmao TT_TT)

Also, I'm really excited to write some of the outfits and clothes that they might wear for this story. And I'm keen to get inspiration for any amazing outfits and stuff you can envision them in/put in future chapters. So if you have any ideas of outfits you want them to wear/think it might look good (formal wear, casual, sexy etc, for Draco or Hermione) let me know so I can get inspiration for other outfits alongside my own ideas. And I might just include them if the story's right, you never know! :P

That's all, peace out and hope y'all have a great day/night/whatever wherever you are C':

-WhymsicalBell


	14. The Nightclub

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 14: The Nightclub

They pulled up at the club a little past seven after grabbing a quick dinner on the way. Hermione quickly met the rest of Felicity, Cassidy and Laura's friends, as well as some boys who were invited. They introduced each other, talked a little about who they were and what their interests were, before heading into the club, where Hermione found the rest of their friends very quickly peeled away - slipping more easily and readily into the nightlife than she had. She fetched the alcohol for them as requested, buying bottles of several different varieties and watched as some of the guys expertly poured it into little plastic solo cups, mixing drinks. They clinked cheers and she felt the chill frizz of alcohol slipping down her throat as they played a few drinking games.

Inside the nightclub was bigger than she thought, warm and dimly lit with loud music and a thumping bass drum. A section of the floor had little neon squares to it, a disco ball and other sweeping light fixtures. Lots of bodies graced the club, dancing with their arms outstretched and partying away the night. Sweet scents of cold night air, alcohol and the tangyness of lemon seeped through the atmosphere. There were two dark stairwells leading to what she presumed was the basement and roof, with two small rusted doors saying 'bathroom' for both women and men nearby. The bar was made of a marble tabletop, with a ring of bright lights all around the top, and a handsome young man serving alcohol in little glasses, with a bunch of bottles behind them.

It was hot. It was loud. It was noisy, and yet, the air seemed lit up with excitement and zest and unwinding, as everyone partied and let themselves loose. Live for the night, forget about the day. A sense of carefreeness that reminded Hermione of the first cold breath of air after crawling out of the castle at Hogwarts, standing by the edge of the forbidden forest even, that sense of freedom and energy. As if she had a spring in her step, adventure in her bones, and a timeless maze of options that lay before her, all at the tips of her fingers.

She got comfortably tipsy, enjoying the music, the feel of alcohol sliding through her throat, partying on the dance floor with a few girls and indulging secrets in games of Truth or Dare: Drink, by the tables for a while. It was fun. At some point throughout the night, her friends had split up into coupling and were probably making out somewhere. She fell out of dancing and drinking with them and instead joined a new crew of random girls to dance on the floor, joining in with the new song and round, grinding up against enthusiastic partygoers who treated her as one of their own, and enjoying the night away.

She remembered glimpses of Draco. He was taller than the girls and stuck out in the crowd at the beginning. Since when had he grown so tall? She wondered, but then remembered that he wasn't going to be stuck looking like his younger self that she'd first met at Hogwarts forever. He seemed mature, and seemed to hit it off with Felicity, Cassidy and Laura's male friends immediately, laughing over some shared joke before slipping away somewhere together.

The night was still young, the lights were bright and the groove of the bodies all around her made her feel like she was in a trance. She was a little worried about completely forgetting about her whereabouts and just enjoying the moment in case deatheaters or the like turned up. She did have her wand in her purse as she always did. Why was it that she could never really enjoy herself without worrying about the war? Why did it feel like her life was pinched tight by the oncoming imminence of the final confrontation with Voldemort, and like she was living her life holding her breath, waiting for the next scuffle. What was it like to be young and wild and free? To throw her woes into the wind, shed her fears and worries, and just dance these precarious years of her life away in the ever evanescent limelight of youth. To let free and be free. Youth. Getting into stupid things and enjoying the minor freedoms and happiness of her formative adolescent years?

The war. She hated Draco because he was on the other side of the war. They were good. Or so she thought, remembering the feel of discovering there were house elves imprisoned at Hogwarts during her fourth year, and the twisted horror that tore her up inside at the thought of Dumbledore allowing such creatures' subservient nature to be exploited for free labour. Yes yes, they wanted free labour, she supposed, much in the same way starving children in China wanted to work in sweatshops for big companies in order to make some small coin to feed their families. Except house elves didn't run on the currency of wealth. Their currency was a nature to please their master as she guessed wizardkind had taken away their natural habitat and all other means of self-reliance. They had to rely on wizards for centuries in order for their community to grow. And they adopted a culture of subservience and an idol worship that disgusted her, but it didn't mean they were necessarily free to choose to serve wizardkind. Afterall, when they couldn't survive on their own, was their eagerness to be exploited for wizards in return for a living space, the basic amounts of food and lack of real clothing really a choice?

Were they really good? Was the other side really bad? All her life, Draco Malfoy had seemed the enemy. The pinnacle of the Dark Side. She was sure his father was a deatheater. Harry's nemesis and schoolyard rival, but, she thought, how much of it was the sides of the war, and the pre-drawn battle lines, and how much of it was him?

He was drop-dead gorgeous, stunningly sexy in recent years. He was also smart and actually cared about school and his subjects, something which neither Harry nor Ron really had the initiative for. He was fairly popular and was witty, sarcastic. They had good banter. He was handsome. The way his cold blue-grey eyes raked over her, the intensity of his austere glance upon her mortal self, his cold cool voice at times and the touches of his fingers, lingering and warm across her skin that evening. Like a burst of electricity.

Old times have to go, a voice that wasn't hers and yet was, spoke inside her mind. Afterall, when was the last time Draco had actually been mean to her? He was most awful during his younger years, but after third year he seemed to have changed a little, now his insults towards Harry and Ron and her, were mostly centred on the school activities like Quidditch and Divination and seemed more motivated by actual events and characteristics than prejudice.

With a jolt she realised he wasn't as bad as the mental picture she'd been painting of him inside her head all these years. The mental image that stuck since first year which she stored away and added her own thoughts and prejudice to every year.

Old times have to go. Separate the past from the present. The war from the romances. The age-old battle lines from the nature of the spark that exists between you.

With a jolt she realised that if it weren't for the war, Draco Malfoy was a pretty darn good looking boy, and the perfect choice of a boyfriend at Hogwarts. In fact, ever since Hermione had been little she'd been dreaming of a handsome, refined man with a love of learning just like her, sense of humour, sarcasm, wit, someone who saw the world in the same complexities that she did and whom she had chemistry with.

If the war hadn't existed. If Hermione hadn't formed alliances with Ron and Harry out of necessity, she may have just taken a look at the Hogwarts cohort, decided Malfoy, was the refined classy gentleman she hoped to dance the night with, and picked him to date out of all people.

Really, if it weren't the war, she wouldn't have minded at all, to fuck him.

"Mione, you must come up to the roof?"

"Mione?"

Unused to the nickname, though finally recognising it was her, she straightened up to see the familiar face of Cassidy twice before her. She blinked and it became one.

"It's almost 10, hurry. You've been dancing so long," she said, looping a hand through Hermione's arm and pulling her up.

"I-I didn't recognise the time," she murmured, taking a wobbly step towards the stairs. She paused, unsure if it was just the fact that she had been moving her limbs in the same repetitive movements for the past hour or so and hadn't broken cycle in a long time, or the alcohol and miscellaneous mixed shots she had done, but her next steps were more solid, and really, walking was so easy, what was she sweating about, she thought as she headed up, straightening up fully and feeling like she was completely coherent for a bit.

"It's so easy to lose track of the time for your first time," said Cassidy, meeting up with two other girls at the foot of the stairs with Hermione in tow.

"Cause there's no clock here," Hermione warbled, as if she'd cracked the code and figured out a noble prize.

The two girls, Emery and someone called Cinnamon, cheered as Hermione arrived. They went up to the rooftop, and then to the basement so Hermione could see what it was like, before going back up to the rooftop as Cassidy said the basement was where couples made out, and the dance floor where people began to pass out or hurl before they could make it to the bathroom later in the night and that the rooftop was the best place if you weren't a masochist and didn't want to torture yourself to grisly sights. Hermione responded that she wasn't and she wouldn't as if uncovering the greatest epiphany of her life.

The rooftop was large, and overlooked the motorway, the rest of downtown. A mess of scraggly buildings and rusty fire escapes of public housing, Hermione frowned at that through her headache. She had glimpsed the issues around public housing in the newspaper from time to time but hadn't really been aware it was so close to her suburb until now. There was the bric-a-brac of broken and derelict buildings, vines crawling up the side as the brick gave way and spilled out into a crumble. Bonfires and spirals of smoke in the air from what she guessed were a teenage boys' tomfoolery. There were shouts in the air, the occasional carefree whoop, patter of feet soles against ground and what sounded like the whirl of a skateboard.

When she chanced to have her mouth open, the electrifying tang of smoke and some form of grilled meat, and a little bit of lemon and something sweet, like cinnamon, laced through the air.

The sky was dark and ever so wide, the stars were even brighter and gave the nightclub a run for their money. The vague thumping of the beats downstairs could still be heard, a steady throb spilling into the night, and the many bodies huddled around the rooftop. There were chairs and round glass tables with fancy umbrellas laid out. Cups of shots or half-empty drinks lay around. An overflowing trashcan in one corner. Lots of people mingled. Some making out, there were a few nooks and crannies near what looked like the fire escape, and some sort of penthouse storage shed on the nightclub rooftop which afforded intermingling couples some cover. A bubble of noises and chatter still broke out over the crowd, and it was almost as hectic as downstairs, just in a different way.

Hermione was lead to the railings by her friends. Where she listened as they talked about tough highschool decisions. Spilling their greatest thoughts, deepest fears and worries about highschool, universities, young love. They really were good friends and had their own lives and everything outside of her. They talked about this and that, occasionally asking her some questions about herself and she responded jovially. By the second time they were on the rooftop after having been to the basement once, Hermione was feeling drowsy and tired, something she hadn't felt before among the buzz. Which by the way, didn't entirely fade, even though she had stopped taking in drinks after the time they first lead her to the rooftop.

She glanced at the time on her phone. 12.53am and 1 missed call.

"Your parents called Draco by the way," said Cassidy.

"What?" asked Hermione, frowning. Even though she had stopped drinking, she seemed to get more of a headache as the night went on. Regretting downing the miscellaneous shots and whatever was in them concocted by some of their friends. If it was just the vanilla beer float she ordered she would have been fine she reckoned.

"Yeah, he said they had one missed call from you. Probs cause you were in the downstairs nightclub for so long. Low reception. And he covered for you," said Cassidy.

"Ah," the only 1 missed call was explained then.

"Said we had a nice dinner, long conversation, then started playing a game of monopoly. You know how monopoly is," said Cassidy.

Hermione frowned, "I do know how monopoly is," she said a little thickly. By now she was starting to recognise the familiar waves of the headache, foggyness like a cloud in her head, and slow-going ease with forming thoughts. Curse mixed drinks on her first real night of heavy drinking, she thought.

"Uh huh, they knew how monopoly is," said Cassidy, ever so slightly slower than usual as well, "he said we'll get back when the victor was reached. And well, they didn't ring again. I did say we'll be meeting up at 2.30 at the latest at the door, but most likely we'd start heading back at 2. The club shuts at 3 you know. And you don't want to still be there towards the very end of the night," she said, "but I think we're going to head back now. Most of us have made out or drank our fill by now," and with that she grinned at Hermione, "thanks for lending us a hand there sis, and helping us get the alcohol. Without you we wouldn't have had such a good experience," and then she hugged her, and it was with such warmth that Hermione couldn't help herself hugging back happily, squeezing her tight.

They wondered downstairs again, meeting up with the rest of the group who all seemed to have sensed it was time to go by some obscure method she knew not. Sort of like how owls always knew where to find their owners. They quickly began heading across the dance floor, talking about this or that, reflecting on the night.

"Where's Draco?" she asked.

"He'd be around somewhere," said Cassidy with a yawn.

"He'll turn up," said Emery comfortingly but Hermione wasn't comforted.

She glanced around. Pale, brown haired guy. No. Brunette with thick framed glasses and curly hair. No. Group of girls dancing to a slow song. No. Where was he? Suddenly her heart leapt to her throat with a jolt. Where'd he'd been the whole night? Come to think of it, she hadn't even physically seen him since the beginning.

They met up with the majority of the guys now, heading outside to where the cars were parked and the cold air greeted them once more. Once they were out of the nightclub they broke into a loud bubble of chatter and noise, talking about maybe grabbing a late night meal, or sleepover at so and so's house for some of them. But all Hermione was thinking of, was the mysterious absence of the guy who seemed to know these games a lot better than her. Where was Draco? And it didn't help that she was still-half drunk as she tried to ponder this perplexing question.


	15. Draco Discovers Casinos

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 15: Draco Discovers Casinos

When Hermione awoke the next day her head was sore and the sun seemed to bleed in through the cracks of her curtains even more heavily than before. Her eyes were squinted shut against the sun, the air seemed to be sizzling with too high of a temperature and her mouth was parched. She forced her eyes to open, and plundered to the bathroom where she splashed some cold water on her face and showered. It helped that she drank a small bit of water from the cup by her desk as she went to gather some clothes before going to the bathroom.

After she'd scrubbed of last night's make-up and felt a little more refreshed. The headache from last night fading away, and changed into normal clothes, she headed downstairs to make some breakfast. Omelettes with mushrooms and cherry tomatoes seemed to be good. She fell into a comfortable familiar routine with making the food, before finishing up with some parsley. She made a cup of coffee, feeling it was good to go with her meal and was almost in a happy stupor when a familiar face peaked around the doorway.

"You!" she said.

After the night they trailed home in the car, with Hermione asking where Draco had been and if anyone had seen him before they hopped on. With someone reassuring her that he was with the group, or that he'd find his way home somehow and not to worry, despite the fact that no one could verify they had physically seen him. She had felt alarmed and had nervous jolts of fear jabbing through her the entire way home, not wanting to think about her parents reactions if she were to lose him, and when she reached home everything felt so tired and raw, that she simply didn't have enough to think anymore as she rubbed her eyes, threw some water on her face, took small sips from a bottle to help with the headache and flopped on bed.

That was last night.

She woke up considerably better that morning. A little off at the start but not very hungover, and was going to have a grand meal, if it weren't for being interrupted by Draco. The anger was boiling and bubbling within her.

"Morning Mione, what's sup? Got any milk?" he asked, making himself a pot of coffee from the kettle. He looked suspiciously well-refreshed for someone who probably drank the same amount she did, and appeared not the least bit hungover. In fact, he looked just as ridiculously handsome as he did the night before, though he had changed into some more casual clothes. The clock on the wall showed 10.31. Her parents must've left for work already, but it didn't hurt to be cautious not to be caught in incriminating wear. "I heard back from an owl this morning that because of my predicament and Dumbledore taking pity on me, I'm allowed to get this year's book list fairly early. To make finding myself in a muggle neighbourhood all the more easier. Guess what? Nowhere on there did it say you can't get a peek as well. Talk about a rare treat," he said with a mocking wink, then opening up some breakfast package that looked like he got it from a muggle cafe. Hermione eyed it, wondering when he bought it.

"Where were you last night Draco?" she asked, getting up and getting angry as she stomped over.

"I was at the club remember? Or are you still hungover?" he said quizzedly, looking at her like she grew two heads.

"I didn't mean that! What were you doing at the club? Did you have fun mysteriously disappearing for the rest of the night?" she asked.

"Yes, didn't you? Muggle nightclubs are a treat," he said, making an 'all g' sign with his fingers that he must've picked up from some muggle boys, that seemed to click all too well with him.

"What? You were in the nightclub the entirety of the night? I couldn't even find you at the end, and trust me, I was looking almost everywhere for you. You can't have been in the club-"

"Oh. That," he said, buttering some rolls that he had bought, "I did stay in the nightclub for most of the night. We took shots and I won several drinking games. Though it wasn't easy. Magical liquor is more interesting for less the price, but man, some muggle hard liquors can knock you out...oh where was I? We played a game of pool, drank in the basement, went up to the rooftop. By the way, I told your parents I ended up the victor of monopoly," he said, to which Hermione still kept her glare on him, "but yes, I spent the majority of the evening in the nightclub Granger. Only at the very end, my bros and I, Henry, Alfred, and Lidge went out to explore some other nightclubs. La Fraouche is...a very pussy nightclub mostly populated by highschoolers you know..." he said with a smirk, "your friends are adorable for picking it. But that's not your fault."

Hermione continued staring daggers at him.

"Then we went to Black Diamond-"

"You did not!" Hermione said.

"Yes we did. Black Diamond. Four Slam, Duellite-"

"It seems you've discovered casinos," said Hermione. She'd never paid that much attention to the casinos in the area, though she vaguely remembered there were a few and her father pointing them out to her, and stating that they were terrible and only destroyed people's personal life and finances, as they took an odd detour through downtown one day when she was very little. The names had faded over time but now they were coming back to her. Much like house elves, her views on casinos, were not exactly in the positive, to say the least.

"Casinos discovered me. I won 20 grand," he said, bringing a wad of thick bills out of his sweatpants pocket, and upon seeing Hermione's gaze, said, "The rest is upstairs. The games are exhilarating and very easy. Once you know the pattern it's easily winnable," he finished, "we gambled at Black Diamond first. Then Four Slam, then Duellite. I won several from each, totalled a little over 20 grand if I'm being honest..."

"You didn't?! Gambling is bad," she had crept up so that she was nearly over him. He looked so pale and divine in the morning light, with chiseled features almost like an angel, which just seemed to invite her hands to reach out and run a finger or two down his bare, chiseled skin. But she didn't. That would be...naughty, she settled on the word for. _Or maybe a devil_, she thought, thinking of the man who must've downed a billion drinks and apparently won a small fortune at some casinos over the course of...oh, what had to be the last seven or eight hours. But stop. _Off bounds_. A voice seemed to say from within her.

She didn't do anything but she realised she was too uncomfortably close a minute too late.

He stood looking down at her from his height, and he wasn't the same first year Hogwarts student she'd seemed to remember him at for so long. He was taller than her by a noticeable amount.

"It's not bad. You just have to know how to play the game right. Plus, I didn't do anything illegal. Just took advantage of what was there," he said, "besides. That's not all the business I got up to."

"Oh? What can you say that can surprise me at this point?" mused Hermione, taking a step back to decrease the distance.

He took this time to spoon some scrambled eggs and oatmeal into his mouth.

"Your downtown district isn't very developed," he said, chewing thoughtfully.

"Oh? Is that all? I could be more surprised by the fact that you expected me to add my assessment to yours," she said, knowing he knew full well she didn't often go there.

"No. It's just that you have a fair lot of venues...Really," he said upon Hermione's confusion, "just neither of them are awfully developed so there's no big names. Some fights occur at them. There isn't a lot of bouncers around. Maybe they never thought they'd need one for some of them. But there's an opening for bouncers..."

Hermione frowned, come to think of it. If she remembered correctly, there really were no bouncers present at La Fraouche from last night. "Don't you have to be...you know. A bit hulk. To do that."

"You should thank your muggle friends from last night that I know who Hulk is," said Draco casually, dumping some scrambled eggs and sauteed mushrooms on his buttered rolls before he ate them.

"You talked about that?" she asked, going back to her own breakfast with a bit of a snort. Really, the events of last night would never cease to surprise her.

"We talked a little about everything. Including current movies. A _movie_," said Draco, "where's that invention for wizards? And an _outdoor cinema showing vintage movies_. Now where is that?" he emphasized with a sip of his coffee.

"Outdoor cinema? Vintage movies?" asked Hermione, feeling as if pigs just grew wings and took off to the skies that morning, thinking to herself, _am I really hearing this from Draco's mouth?_

"Blame Alfred. He has a bit of a flair for those sort of things. After we called him pussy and gave him a good noggin over it. But it's a fine taste really..."

"A little about everything? You really did talk..."

"I suppose so. They're fine men really. Alfred's like the Nott to my muggle world," said Draco with a bit of a wistful sigh.

Hermione frowned, trying to piece together the name with the face, "Nott? Theodore Nott?" she said at last, not recognising those two boys had been close at Hogwarts.

"I was equally surprised to hear your acquaintance with Wildred," said Draco, referring to the ginger-haired girl that was the fourth inhabitant of Hermione's dorm.

"I guess we don't know each other as well as we thought..." said Hermione.

"There's a lot you _don't_ know about me," interjected Draco, before leaning up a little more straight with a jolt, "where was I?"

"We were at, 'Don't you have to be a a bit hulk for that?'" said Hermione with a sheepish smile, she was starting to...enjoy this banter. It was one of the first real and longer ones they had since they became friends.

"Oh yes. Usually. Usually that's a very good idea unless you want a good ass-kicking. But I did mention La Fraouche was a little bit of a pussy nightclub didn't I?" he almost purred, an amused smirk breaking out on his face, "and that only pussies go there."

"You've mentioned it twice. Which is two times more than enough," snarked back Hermione.

"So? Does that answer your question?" said Draco, looking at her with the same smirk as before.

Hermione frowned, horror emerging as she began to connect the dots..."you got a job as a bouncer at La Fraouche?" she said, a little weakly. Though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't that Draco wasn't strong. Hours of Quidditch training had done it's job, and from watching Harry and Ron occasionally play fight and wrestle over a bit of rolled up paper when they were supposed to be studying, or who got the last serbet pop at Hogsmeade over the years, or the many other instances of tomfoolery, she had learned Quidditch players had some surprising strength. But maybe it was just the shock of it all and the need to process things in a quick timeframe that was jarring.

"Not only that. And some other small nightclubs," he said, "in fact. I did my first shift last night."

"You stayed up all night?" she asked.

"Went back here with you to put the 20 grand away so I wouldn't be mugged. Caught a ride back where Cooner wanted me to do a first shift to try it out and see how I did."

"Cooner?"

"Owner of La Vix Miseries, a smaller nightclub with harder drinks and a smattering of drugs not far from La Fraouche actually...he's a nice guy, decent bloke actually. I should introduce your acquaintance sometime..."

"Finished off around 3. A bit later actually. Then copped a bit of a nap there, headed back at around 6.30, and oh, your cafes are open early," continued Draco.

"That's the one on the mainstreet then...if you did indeed come through at around 6-7," said Hermione, trailing of a little.

"Well I'm a lucky guy aren't I? Today's my day," said Draco with a bit of a cocky grin, "but really. It's all good fun. There was a role to be filled. And now it is. You needn't worry. I know what it takes, I didn't bite of more than I could chew...but I expect to be a bit preoccupied in the upcoming weeks with a part-time job," he said, finishing of his breakfast with a flourish.

"You know...when my parents said you could do with getting work experience and a part-time job...I don't think they could have ever guessed this," she said with a small smile of mirth.

Draco smirked back at her as he binned his rubbish from his meal, "But aren't I getting real experience? In the muggle world? Besides...your muggle world isn't actually bad," he said with a swallow. And then he stared at her, and it seemed all sounds were silent from the outside, and all she felt was the ever so intense glare of his blue-grey cold gaze, never leaving the pathway to her irises. "It's...not. That. Bad. It's vivid and intense. It's..." he swallowed, a little tongue-tied and lost for words. He cast his glance outside the window, at the idyllic view, before sweeping back and attempting to continue explaining himself, "It's fleeting. It's complicated. It's complex...it's...very intense and full of it's own virtues...it's a small wonderland of suburbia tucked away within itself..."

"Really?" said Hermione, the first time hearing this perspective about the muggle world.

"You should make the most of it. It's worth it..." was all he said.

Then, "but Hermione. I made a lot of 'big' money last night. More than I anticipated..."

Hermione continued staring at him, waiting for him to get to this point, not at all impatiently though.

"I only have 200 with me now," he said, referring to the wad he had pulled out of his pocket, "the amount all came in fivers. It's not usually made to make this much, especially in such a small town. I just got lucky. It all came out in $5 fiver notes," he said, the colour draining out of his face a little and Hermione realising just for the first time, how tired he looked beneath the masking glow of the morning sun and the shadows under his eyes, "the rest is all upstairs. Oh, where oh where am I supposed to put it all?"

* * *

Author's Note: Once again thanks for sticking with this story up til this chapter! I hope people liked reading it and it's nice if someone persists with this story. Though reviews are nice too, and I heavily appreciate any, so review? :P

A few more points in case you were confused:

-All nightclub names were made up because I didn't want to focus too much on any real non-fiction place

-I chose unusual names for most of the OCs because I have this thing where if I'm writing a character's name, I'm always either thinking of someone called that in real life as I'm writing it (and that's never ok-ay xD It's always a bit awkward...) or thinking of another character that's written about in another book or fanfiction somewhere that I've read about. And I feel like, especially in the case of another fictional or literary character that I've actually read about (and I do tend to like most books/fics I read and the characters are sometimes memorable and stick in my head a bit...), I always feel as if I'm slightly influenced by that, and like I tend to write the character as it was from the last book or fic that I read about a character with the same name in. So to prevent that, I stuck with names that by chance, I haven't really come across many characters under those in fics, or not enough to make a clear impression so it feels more real. That's the explanation behind the unusual names btw :P

As usual, hope y'all have a lovely day/night/whatever whereever you are :P

-WhymsicalBell


	16. British Official Bank

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 16: British Official Bank

"The bank. You're going to have to get a bank account," said Hermione, as they were on the main street and nearing the banks. They could already glimpse the other people in the banks, many around Hermione's age that were probably there to withdraw or deposit money. What? Teenagers needed to transact funds more than one might possibly guess.

"But I'm a wizard?" said Draco, dropping his voice to a whisper. They had changed out of their comfort wear, which they both realised with a burst of laughter, resembled something sleazy and effortless after a night out in that they both somehow picked out sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt. To which they mutually agreed they had to dress a little more decent than that otherwise it was going to arouse the same suspicion, especially if Hermione's parents somehow happened to bump into them, or a friend of theirs did. Though from the looks of it they were mostly going to get away with it. Not that it was much. When was the last time she had done something devious to her parents, thought Hermione. A lot less than most other people she guessed, though she had done a few small things now that she came to think of it, pretty much everyone did, adding storybook titles beneath school book titles and the extra amount of books she wanted to read to her parents shopping lists was one example that came to mind, though that was vaguely before Hogwarts. Living at a boarding school does greatly decrease the amount of direct delinquency at one's parents she supposed.

"I have an account connected to my name under our bank! My parents get a personal owl if I make transactions over a certain amount, which is in place until I turn 16. What am I to do?"

"Sssh," hissed Hermione, though no one had heard yet, "you'll get an account. If there's any problems they'll make it apparent then. If not, you open one and dump according to our plan." Their plan was to hit up all the small banks in the town and trade as much of Draco's loot for higher notes as possible without arousing suspicion, for suddenly trading in a little over 20 grand was going to raise suspicion no matter what. And then hopefully have a small enough amount of money to dump into his main account. They were using British Official Bank, which was the biggest muggle bank in all of England and had three branches in Hermione's town. So if need be, they could deposit at all three.

"Alright. But I'm telling you, I feel uneasy..." said Draco, looking a little distressedly at the plastic bags of cash they had in the car around them. Hermione couldn't technically drive on her own yet, but with Draco's clever insistence that she was mature enough to not be pulled over, she was driving them to the bank. And yes, the Granger household had two cars, though the one she was driving in was fairly expensive, as it was a luxury gift from her father to her mother. Who never had an interest in cars, but as Hermione remembered his comment all these years ago, 'there's only so many years one can buy chocolates and flowers and overseas trips for...'. It was barely used, and Hermione knew that if she so much as got a dent or scratch on it, she was over troubled water. Dentists didn't make much, though her parents did own their own surgery, and for the most part, spent frugally compared to most upper-middle class families so items like that were just about affordable to them.

"You uneasy at a bank?" said Hermione, stifling a laugh as she parked, "who would have thought?"

"Not the one at home," defended Draco, "just this one. Though Gringotts it's not my most favourite place to be either. The goblins can be creepy around our vault."

"Three guesses why," said Hermione, and they both cracked up. "Okay, let's go in and open up your new bank account..."

They got in and got out with relatively little trouble.

"I can't believe it worked!" exclaimed Draco. Now they were in the car and going around the banks from one side of town to the other to exchange $5's for $100s.

"See? I told you. Muggle banks work different to wizarding ones. You just open up an account under your name, they record your details and put it in their system, and as long as you haven't committed financial crimes or done anything in their system that's it, it's all good. They run on a separate system. There's no automatic ping or anything to the wizarding world. I suspect it's only when you try to transfer money between accounts that it starts to matter."

"You can do that?" asked Draco with a little bit of surprise.

Hermione nodded, "then Gringotts records your bank accounts in the muggle world and connects them. So you now have the right to transfer money between them. My parents opened up an account at Gringotts one year actually, so they could transfer money online and then go to Gringotts and just withdraw the amount without having to physically exchange cash on the day. Though it's a restricted account and turns out it's not very convenient so they still opt to exchange money. But they do have an account, albeit unused."

"Restricted?" questioned Draco.

"Of course. Gringotts is intended for witches and wizards only. You can have a small account that has a few restrictions and only the basic functions if you prove you have a purpose to have one," she said.

"So not relation specifically?" asked Draco.

"No, not relation," said Hermione with a yawn, "just a good purpose why you should have one. I mean, suppose a muggle did find their way to Gringotts in the wizarding world, haven't been chased out or too spooked, could handle it, and had money they wished to exchange for wizarding money for whatever...you can guess they'd be in a good position or have a good reason for it, not just the average muggle, so it's allowed. My parents reason was to pay for their muggle-born daughter's schooling fees," she explained.

"Fascinating..." Draco said, trailing of.

"Oh? Is it?" asked Hermione, raising her eyebrows at him.

He swallowed, "it surprises me how much I don't know. Especially from a muggle-born's perspective. I learn more through you."

Hermione blinked some. Then, a car ran a light and almost ran into their bumper. Hermione parked quickly. "We should split up," she said, looking at the pile of $100s they had already traded as they grabbed bits of conversation in between. "It's quicker that way. We each hit up one bank each."

"Alright, you take the loot here. And I'll take this one," said Draco with a smile, amicably distributing the amounts. Luckily people were mostly inside banks and shops and stuff, as opposed to near the shady carpark or slightly secluded spots Hermione chose to park, and they were discreet about it and stowed the majority of the items in the compartment beneath their feet or near the ground, or placed cushions over it, so it didn't stand out and luckily didn't attract any big attention.

After they split up, Draco walked to the bank solo, feeling a pleasant sense of lightness and of going about the day as planned, carrying out tasks and everything working well, when he walked into a small blonde who promptly tripped and fell, clutching at some items that came spilling out of her wallet - hairclips, a tube of chapstick which rolled for quite a bit, the filmsy rectangular piece of a book voucher which flip-flopped flimsily with the momentum for quite a fair while before coming to a stop.

"I'm sorry, I mustn't have been looking where I'm going. Allow me," he said, bending down and picking up some items. Some of the wad of notes spilling out of the lip of his bag and being visible in broad daylight.

"You look like quite a serious thinker," she said, only with the tiniest of small giggles as she accepted the items back, coming to stand at her full height.

Draco suddenly recognised her. "You're the girl at my window!" he said. For ever since he moved in, there was a family who lived in the flat opposite his bedroom window facing the street. And there was a blonde-haired, teenage girl who lived in the matching bedroom of that apartment (houses were the same on that street, just flipped) whom he occasionally caught glances of in between curtains or blinds, as they went about their days during the morning and evening. It wasn't him being creepy at all, he mostly closed the curtains at night and slept facing away from the window. But it was just the inevitable sort of occurence that came about from living opposite somebody, they caught glimpses of each other before closing curtains and blinds during morning and night but they had never said hi or waved or made any further attempt at communication. This was probably the first real run-in they had.

"Oh, you remember me?" her eyes were wide, a little with surprise. She was a tall girl, taller than average but not too tall to be out of the range of comfortable for a guy. She was a little closer to his height than Hermione was, but Draco was still taller. She had light, almost silvery hair, that was mostly straight but grew to a bit of a curl around her shoulders. Blue-grey eyes, with the palest hint of grey but mostly blue, that was a clear and azure colour. She had a narrow and delicate face, with a pointed chin and heart-shaped hairline. She was waif-thin and was currently wearing an oversized biege woollen jumper and short light blue jeans. She was not at all, objectively unattractive.

"Hard not to when we see each other almost every night at the bedroom window," he said amicably and with a smile, "What are the odds we see each other here. I'm here exchanging money, what are you here for?"

"Depositing a bit of money into my account from my parents," she said, showing him a check for $16,000. "My parents were away on a business trip so they were unable to and I had to as an errand. It's for my 16th birthday. As for the odds...we live in the same town, opposite each other, and the town's pretty small. It's not unlikely we'd bump into each other at the bank at least once right?" she said, with a bit of a smile. She had an elusive dimple which appeared sometimes.

"Sounds hectic. Happy 16th birthday by the way, I'll wave if I see you around, oh and what's your name? I'm Draco by the way," he said, offering a hand to shake.

She shook it with a smile and a dimple again, "My name's Selina," she said, "Draco. That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you, it was after a constellation."

She smiled, "My one's not as cool as yours, unfortunately. It's just named after something my mum thought was nice at the time she was pregnant with me," she said flatly.

Draco laughed a little, "I'm sure it's special in it's own right," he told her, before the bank teller called him to come forth.

"I got to go. I'll see you around," he said with a jolly smile as he walked up.

"Ookay. Bye boy-at-my-window," said the girl dreamily, before her eyes flickering open and her running a little to catch up to him just as he was placed the money no the counter. "How will we keep in touch? Do you have a facebook or somewhere where I could find you?" she asked, catching up to him with a huff and slipping two arms around his. Her skin was cold to the touch and slipped around his arm so nicely.

"Oh that's good. I'm new around here and I haven't gotten much requests to connect with anyone yet," he said, thinking of how little with the outside world he interacted with outside of Hermione. There was the nightclub, but his mates hadn't done more than bemoan social media whilst they had been piss-drunk and hanging about. They hadn't exactly sought to find him on there during that night and he hadn't any other connections to the muggle world outside Hermione. It was a bit exhilarating to think about getting social media. "Well, my name's Selina Lyra Williamson," she said, "you can find me."

And with that the bank teller was beginning to get impatient so Draco had no other choice but to turn back and get his currency sorted out, before finding Hermione, who had been waiting a little for him, and continue with their task.

It was a little tiring and took up the majority of the day until the early afternoon, but they had succeeded in transferring most of that money into Draco's new bank account with no difficulties and were just getting on the drive home.

Apparently Hermione had bumped into an old classroom teacher on one of her errands. They'd had a long conversation in which she got mildly philosophical and contemplating about things. So she insisted on filling up the conversation during the car ride home with old teachers and childhood aspirations, leaving no room for any interruptions or change of topic in the forthright way she was carrying on, to which Draco chattered happily, perhaps coming to terms with the fact that once again, people lived vastly different lives and how such a conversation with Hermione meant she had a very different experience of the day than she did, and probably had her mind solely on that, chattering endlessly about this or that, the conversation held up quite well all the way home. Old teachers or governesses for Draco and childhood aspirations was something he felt there was enough substance to chatter about.

"Oh Hermione?" he said.

She looked over after she'd parked, "Mmm?" she asked.

"What's a facebook? And social media? I...I want to get some..."

* * *

Author's Note: One thing to note:

-British Official Bank isn't a real bank. It's a made-up one because I don't particularly like writing non-fictional places in my stories. You can assume it is one of the larger banks within this story though. If you see any names of places and stuff in the future chapters, know it's most likely made up unless I explicitly said so in the author's notes.

-Also, does anyone have any constructive criticism/likes/dislikes etc, of this story? I know I haven't said explicitly before, and maybe I should have, but I'm always open to constructive criticism and I think it's a good thing which improves stories. I'm also curious how this story was received and what could have been done better, so if anyone has any constructive criticism, whether about the plot, the characters, the dialogue etc, please give it. And another thing is, I notice this story honestly hasn't been getting as much reviews as I would have liked (an average of 1.8 per chapter tbh...), and I was wondering, if these lack of reviews were centred around the story/plot/etc, or anything soliciting constructive criticism, please let me know because I want to improve my writing!

Over and out,

-WhymsicalBell


	17. Internet Trolls

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 17: Internet Trolls

"That's facebook...instagram, tumblr, snapchat..."

Hermione introduced Draco to most of the normal social medias on her laptop. After explaining what a laptop was, they quickly popped out and bought a nice black one for Draco, which he was happy about.

Hermione didn't use social media that much, mostly going to Hogwarts and only talking to her muggle friends every nown and then in the holidays. But she had to have a facebook to connect with some of her parents friends to be polite, and a couple of her old classmates did send her friend requests and asked her out of curiosity if she had the other social medias as they wanted more followers on theirs. So Hermione did more or less have the basic social medias that most people had, but she was never too active on them, and sort of had the bare minimum amount of followers to not be considered a spam account. She was more or less happy with her social media.

Draco got all the usual ones, spending the next half day or so updating his profiles, following things that he liked, checking each one out. He was starting to get the gist of what muggle social media was. A sort of in between place between real life and virtual space, where people talked about bullshit but didn't spend too much time on it. He introduced himself as a foreign exchange student over for the summer on his facebook and added some of his mates from the nightclub. Word spread like wildfire and pretty soon he was sure he had friended most of Hermione's school mates, as well as a few extra from all over the town. He was tagged in a couple of photos from the nightclub, and a few statuses of their 'big win' as well as from his job as a bouncer, and pretty soon he was sure everyone knew who he was. That new foreign exchange student from Hermione's prep school over for the summer.

Draco spent the next day and a half getting used to them. He was quickly picking up the hang of social media, and having fun with it, but not too uncautiously. He recognised it was a great time sinker and waster, and probably the sort of thing which could get you politically up in flames if you weren't careful (he had a good penchant for recognising when things weren't politically favourable), but otherwise enjoyed it. He was never popular on it, as he didn't know very many people and only had the bare minimum numbers of followers and the like to prove he wasn't a spam account, but it was more than what he could have hoped for.

He was also beginning to enjoy them, and spent the next day and a half lazing around, scrolling social media. To which Hermione was disgusted and left him to his 'slobby' devices.

Draco just laughed as he went through.

Instagram was where you could stalk hot girls and if you were lucky they accepted a follow.

Tumblr could read lengthy 'witch and wizard enthusists blogs' from the small part of the world that still believed them and laugh over their lengthy theories and claims about how magic worked.

Snapchat was where he discovered that his hair indeed, looked ridiculously sexy in all the filters, and where he could send Hermione a snap just before she went to bed. Which usually resulted in what sounded like quite an audible vexed scream coming from her room at night. He smirked.

Tinder was hilarious. He had fun with tinder.

Twitter he followed a few car and motorcycle companies and was where he found out more about muggle vehicles. Getting an idea of which cars were good, which ones weren't, which ones were expensive, which ones were expensive but poor. It was like a whole world had opened up.

Pinterest he added pins of his favourite cars and motorcycles, and muggle places he liked to visit. Cities, suburbia, motorways, casinos...Las Vegas, on and on it went...

Overall he was having a great time and even put out a bit about himself online (though not much, he was very cautious) in the way of one or two photos, or a few things about his hobbies. He was starting to think he liked soccer, which was the muggle version of Quidditch based on what his bros at the nightclub told him.

He was very happy until...

"AHHH! Hermione...what is this? Hermione..."

"I'm busy. My mother wants me to move the stew off the stove. If I do it any later it'll bubble over!" she called back from the kitchen.

"Hermione GET HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"Alright. Alright. Coming...coming..." she said, heading to his room with a bit of a 'what did you do this time' smirk as she wiped her slightly wet hands on a paper towel square she grabbed from the kitchen.

"Hermione. I think I'm getting your social media. I'm learning how to converse right. I'm getting the hang of it and having fun...but what...is this...?" he said, pointing at a few comments on his instagram and tumblr.

Beneath an instagram photo, of himself snapped outside of Hermione's jacaranda tree, were the comments.

_what a gay fag lol. Only a fag has pale blonde hair. I fap to hot blundes n go online to find this...way to catfish motherf**ker _

_Clicked on this acc thinking it was a girl. worst mistake of my life _

_go fcking die u fcking cnt. go swllow ur own j*zz n sck ur own dck and fck urself so hard ur dck cmes out the other end after u put it in ur mouth. whilst i fap to actual women n u can swllwo my cum afterward_

Then, on this tumblr in the anon entry.

_Go die motherfcker. Ur a mistake and a troll lololol. No one likes you and everyone just pretends to bc theyre too nice to say it to ur face. Ur a cringe and a twelvie and I want u to fcking know that and to fcking own up to ur mistakes lololol. Drink some bleach and chlorine to cleanse the world of you peepls. U deserve to die and be raped and killed b4. Go drink some fcking bleach and die twelvie. _

_What the fck who u looking at fcker? Go stick a pencil up ur ass and shit out splinters motherfcking cunt. I put bleach in my eyes from ur profile dp. Trolol. _

None of these accounts were from seemingly real names. Draco still wore the frown he must've had a few moments ago, wondering what he had done in particular to deserve this. Underneath one of his tumblr comments, was a reply from him:

_I don't even have a profile dp on my tumblr. Wat r u talking about? _

And then the reply:

_What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I'm the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo._

To his surprise, Hermione just started laughing. And laughing. She kept laughing and didn't stop, her loud guffaws ringing around the house.

"What?" asked Draco, incredulous.

"It looks like you've discovered internet trolls!" was all she said, still in between splinters of laughter.

"What are those?"

"Oh..._Honey_..." she said, with a bit of a laugh and a sigh as she sat down and looked at him a while before opening her mouth.

* * *

Author's Note: Heya, how's it all goin'? :P Thanks for reading up to this chapter and I have a few questions about the story if you wouldn't mind answering (please do, I don't get much reviews and I'm heavily wanting feedback for this story so...review? Pwetty please? *puppy eyes lol*) You don't have to answer all or any at all if you don't want to, but just answer as much as you could. I would heavily appreciate it :)

Q1. How are you finding this story so far? Likes/dislikes?

Q2. What do you think about the setting? Do you like it? Is it cohesive? Is there anything you'd like to see included from the muggle world? Anything you don't want to see? :P Also, do you relate to it and see aspects from your own personal neighbourhoods in here? Considering this is set in 'our' world so to speak...I tried to capture this sense of nostalgia that I feel a suburbia always has...and I was wondering if I captured it well enough in here and if anyone else felt it too.

Q3. What do you think of Hermione/Draco? Do you think they're too OOC (out of character) or just right? It was a struggle getting them right (or good enough to publish, I wrote and rewrote some parts several times and took bits in/out before ending up with what was published), especially balancing exposition/what would be their reactions to the muggle world/each other, to how Draco would act within the muggle world once he got into it. I endeavor to make it as little OOC as possible, but I was wondering how their characterisation came across to you and whether anyone has any constructive criticism for it? (I don't mind, I love constructive criticism as it only helps me to grow as a writer, so don't feel afraid of giving constructive criticism.)

Q4. How long/many chapters do you think this story is going to have, and when do you think the first kiss is going to be? (just so I get a sense of things from the reader's perspective. I already have an idea of the length and stuff...but I want to see how the story's pacing comes across to readers...)

Q5. What do you think of the pacing? Too slow/fast?

Q6. What do you think of the dialogue? Any constructive criticisms? I know at parts it's a bit bland, but I feel it had to be in order to explain everything. But I'm still interested in how it's coming of to you and whether you have any tips. I feel like the dialogue isn't particularly witty, but I don't know if that's just me...

Sorry for the long author's note. Thanks if you answered the questions or considered answering some. Hope y'all have a great day/night/whereever you are :P

-WhymsicalBell

Also, I'm a little busy for the next week or so, so I might not upload a new chapter until then (despite publishing the last few quite close) so if this story isn't updated, I HAVE NOT given up on it, but am just busy. I'll never remove this story or delete it bc I do love it and want to see it up, so you don't have to worry about that!


	18. Cats and Things

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 18: Cats and Things

"...and that, is what a troll is," finished of Hermione, after filling Draco in on what trolls were.

"Oh merlin, those _fuckers_," swore Draco, his nostrils flaring. Hermione noted he did that when he was mad. Much like Mcgonagall did. But unlike Mcongagall, he did it over different things. They both had the same sort of long, pale, austere face to do that, Hermione supposed. All she mostly did when she was mad was purse her lips. Not exactly the same effect.

"Calm down, you've just been hit hard once," tried Hermione, reaching out a hand to touch him on the arm.

He looked at her sharply, "is there something happy your internet has...?" he asked after a while.

Hermione sighed.

"and that...is grumpy cat. And garfield comics-" she said a moment later, after scrolling through endless memes, cats and things with Draco, whilst wrapped up cozily in blankets puled up to their chest no the couch, she had went of and made two cups of hot cocoa during that time because it just seemed the thing to do.

"I like garfield. It's so relatable. I want to see more of that cat," said Draco stubbornly.

Hermione sighed, "don't we all?" she asked softly, "...don't we all?"

"Anyways, that's chemistry cat. And physics dog. And Smart Black Guy meme. And Willa Wonka-"

"Ha!" said Draco, reading one where the Smart Black Guy meme talked about how you couldn't study less for a subject you weren't studying for at all. Draco got good marks yes, but unlike Hermione he didn't attempt to in all subjects, and there was a little bit of 'urgh, we have to cram for this test' attitude he and his mates had, which Hermione largely didn't. She guessed he or his friends related to it somewhat.

They spent the next couple of hours doing nothing but scrolling through cute and fuzzy memes, cats and things, the generally nicer side of the internet Hermione had explained. They laughed at memes and lightly chatted about the ridiculousness of the internet, and Draco was just getting the hang of it. He deleted the comments, made his instagram private (best thing to do as he wasn't intending on staying on instagram much or building a following. Like Hermione, and especially as he was just in the muggle world for the summer, he may have social media just to have social media, and be somewhat active, or have more of a following to put him outside of spam account range. But he was never going to ever build a presence on there) and responded to the ones on tumblr.

_At least I'm here reblogging with my time. And what are you? A low person sending anon hate? I'm having more of a life than you and you're just a person who's too afraid to speak up off anon. If anything this just shows how pathetic you are. _

Hermione beamed in pride at that, and Draco got more reblogs than he anticipated with his post. Especially with people sympathizing on haters and trolls with him.

"You know...I think...I'm just getting the hang of the internet," he said.

Just then, Mr and Mrs Granger walked in from their busy day at work. Draco and Hermione sprang apart quickly and ditched the covers. Luckily the parents seemed preoccupied in their conversation and didn't notice anything.

"You know...it's time for your bi-yearly dental clean," said Mrs Granger, walking in and placing a small bag of groceries on the table.

"Indeed. You haven't had yours yet for this summer, and it's something that's protocol for muggles," said Mr Granger, "and neither...has Draco."

"We can do it tomorrow at our clinic! We actually have an unbooked time slot around about now..." said Mrs Granger.

"I'll prepare the tools. We have a scalpel, hooked instrument, scalers, high-pressure water-"

"Assistants actually trained this time around with how to handle blood, gum, a little bit of loose tissue, and you know, that sort of stuff," said Mrs Granger.

"Yes, our last assistants were unusually skittish around blood and tissue and things of that ilk," said Mr Granger disapproving.

Draco turned pale and looked to Hermione with a 'what am I supposed to do now' look and Hermione smiled wanly at him to attempt to calm him down. Looks like he was getting a bi-yearly dental clean.

"What am I to do?" he whispered once Mr and Mrs Granger left. 'I still don't even fully _know_ what a dentist does,' he mouthed. And it's one of those professions, that, short of being absolutely upper middle-class as he gathered from Hermione's background, had an element of intimidation and terror to it in essence. _And to think he looked down Hermione Granger all these years. _She may have well been the Pansy Parkinson of the muggle world, given her social status there.

She just grinned at him, "You know the google I told you?" she asked.

"Yes, that shit helped me find everything. From instagram to tumblr to how to order alcohol online..."

"Yeah. Google that," she said with a grin, poking her tongue out.

Draco paled even more, before searching up some relevant terms. Afraid and wandorous of what he would find.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter, thanks to Black Banshee for reviewing the last chapter and all the others previously and to Guest: Ikr!

Also, due to real life and conflicting schedules and stuff, I'm going to be a bit busy so I think this chapter would be the last update for a while (just being real here). I hope you still stick with it when I get the time to come back. Know that it's not abandoned, I'm just busy with life. And please please do review! Not just this chapter, but the others as well if you had anything to say. I would still love to hear your feedback on all chapters!

Over and out,

WhymsicalBell


	19. Slice of Life

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 19: Slice of Life

"How was it?" she asked once they were both done and sitting in the staff room of the clinic. Their parents were done but had a few other patients to do before they could wrap up for the day and take them both home, which they thought was preferable to them walking home. It wasn't the main staff room, but simply a small, almost lounge like area, with a pool table and a bunch of other recreational stuff as well as some couches. Draco faintly got the impression the real staff room with all the presumed important documents and the like was further back. His father had a few arrangements like that at the Malfoy Manor, where the more important rooms were hidden after decorations. There were even some hidden passages and secret tunnels there, though Draco didn't often use them. The Manor wasn't built in such a way they needed to use hidden passages or tunnels to get from common places to common places and he considered it undignifying anyway.

"Honestly not bad. The worst thing was googling it," he replied.

"Never google medical terms. It only exaggerates them and makes you think you're going to die," said Hermione with a smile.

"I realised when I didn't die thirty minutes ago. You were the fucker that told me to google it though," responded Draco with a pointed glare, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"Oops," said Hermione a little apologetically. (She probably did forget that little factor in the moment. There was something about her naughty 'oops' which got Draco.)

"So you know what a dentist does?" she asked.

"Yes, speaking of which..." Draco paused, then suddenly looked at her, "why didn't you mention something at Hogwarts? I have the rough idea what a dentist is and does and merlin's beard, your family's profession is upper middle class in your world. You've been upper middle class your whole life?!"

Hermione looked disapproving, "because boasting about your family's name to get advantages is no fair to others who weren't born with the same chance through no fault of their own."

"But there are societal expectations and scrutiny that only the Malfoys will face," he said, "which will follow us til the death and always present challenges. Doesn't that justify the advantages of the name as well?" his voice was soft, it reminded Hermione a little of Lucius', chilling in a sense.

"I suppose you were born into those expectations through no fault of your own either," she said, unable to not see the reason and logic for it, "I'm starting to see how you think."

"Everyone does the longer they spend around me," said Draco, "I don't exactly keep my brilliant thought processes to myself and if I wanted to keep things a secret, you wouldn't even know it."

Hermione looked at him and saw a mysterious blankness beneath those cold blue eyes. An odd sense of not knowing what he was thinking, almost a magical sense, like she could never tell. She had a sense he was right.

"By the way, thanks for sticking up for me there when my parents mused if I had magic on my teeth," she said, referring to her two front teeth which got oversized by a hex and then Hermione told Madam Promfey to shrink them down just a little too much that fated day at Hogwarts, "and saying that you remembered them always being this size."

Draco paused, "I'm sorry," he finally said at last, "if it weren't for my comments you wouldn't have gotten them shrunk down..."

"It's...it's okay," she said finally at last, though that had been so long ago it seemed irrelevant now.

"I'm...I'm sorry for that time. It was cruel of me," he finally said, looking up and meeting her eyes.

"And for the others...?"

Just then Mr and Mrs Granger walked in, the door popped open with a bang and jumped both Draco and Hermione out of their thoughts as they whipped around to see them walking in.

"Time to go!" said Mr Granger, "grab your bags! Let's hit the road before peak hour traffic!"

"Yes! Brilliant idea!" said Mrs Granger, passing Hermione her bag as the two of them got up and got ready to follow their parents out, the last conversation out of their mind. All that could have been.

* * *

Author's Note: Hello! Thanks for sticking with the story! I had some unexpected free time in between the busy stretch of life and wanted to update with a chapter! It was a nice filler chapter after the last several which all sort of followed on from each other. Anyways please review and I was wondering if anyone had any suggestions for conversation topics between Draco and Hermione? It could be anything ranging from light to humorous to funny to heavy! I have some witty dialogue in mind but not so much the context. Any topics you'd like to see them banter about would be great! And that's all, hope y'all doing well and peace out!

-WhymsicalBell


	20. Draco Buys a Corvette

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 20: Draco Buys a Corvette

The sizzle of heat that began in the neighbourhood several weeks ago didn't let up; thermometers hugged the higher degrees on a routine basis, Hermione was swamped with work (she often tutored muggle kids as a way to pass time and make some pocket money during her school holidays, as well as tutored occasionally at Hogwarts, likewise with Draco, anyone who had remotely good enough grades could tutor), the sizzle of heat pocketed the roads and the streets of her dreary neighbourhood, fortitude against releasing it's stringent grasp on the neighbourhood. The air shimmered, traffic paused on the motorway and grunted as they picked up the effort again, going a little way before inevitably, coming to a stop for something. It seemed like a collective bead of sweat rolled down all the inhabitant's faces as the languid summer days ticked by.

Hermione as aforementioned, was busy with work so she didn't check up on what Draco was doing too often. She had been vaguely aware he started his two and a half week's help at her parents dental office some time ago, and besides being a bit lost for things at the beginning, he was quite adept at passing instruments to her parents and showed enough pleasant mannerisms to get by. The work experience had passed without much drama, and now Hermione was writing a letter to Harry and Ron from the quietness of her room as her parents were at work, and Draco was well...somewhere about. He had been spending more and more time at his job as a bouncer and with his new friends. She supposed she was glad he was fitting in somewhat, but also a little concerned about what he was getting up to...oh well. He's gotta do what he's gotta do. He would find some way to get himself entangled in the same businesses again, she thought, regardless of if she said anything or tried to impose sanctions. She rolled her eyes, thinking of 'imposing a grounding' on Draco or something and the humorous resulting argument that would be likely to occur.

What should she write to Harry and Ron about Draco? She hadn't told them about him yet...but everyone was going to find out anyway (and she and Draco were sticking to telling everyone they became friends over the holidays and had a working friendship between them as to not avoid killing each other trapped in the same neighbourhood for about three months), and she'd rather them know now than have to deal with their reactions as well as everyone else's on the first day back. In the end, she told them of the situation, how they had to keep quiet about it under Ministry's orders, suppose telling their families such as the Weasleys (from her brief impressions of the Dursleys, she doubted they would care) was okay, but otherwise to keep it under lock and key. And that Draco...was actually more interesting than anyone thought, and being in such close quarters made you realise things about a person and he was actually tolerable in a way and they hadn't killed each other and were getting along. Satisfied, she finished the letter, as well as recounting a few other events and inquiring how they were, before sending it of.

The jangle of car keys and a crop of blonde hair that peaked out beneath window as she went to release the owl caught her attention. It as somewhere in the mid-morning, Draco usually went out at night, there was no reason for him to leave the house this soon yet. And she was starting to grow paranoid by the silence on his end. The worst thought came to mind. _Drugs...?_ She just felt like she had to ask _something_, get the faintest inkling of an idea what he was up to before putting it all away. Just to make sure that whatever mischief he was getting up to with his new friends...wasn't something _terrible_. Perhaps she should give him a lecture on the addictiveness of muggle drugs before she left him alone for the holidays.

"Draco. Where are you going?" she inquired, stepping outside and putting a hand to cover her eyes from the sun as she glanced at him. He had a pair of car keys in his hand and his wallet in his pocket, but besides that, nothing else. He wasn't dressed in the usual leather jacket white t-shirt attire he wore for his bouncer job.

"Oh you know...here and there. I pop up where the wind blows, and where interesting things happen," he said, a smirk on his face before turning away from her and walking towards the main street. She quickly grabbed her keys from the bowl in the kitchen, locked the door and followed a little huffily after him. He never asked for a pair of keys to this house and didn't have one, but most of his activities took place at night, or near mid-evening so there was pretty much always someone to let him in. And besides, he seemed quite adept at sneaking in and out of the house, possibly through windows, though Hermione had never caught him in the act, that he seemed to get around with his nocturnal activities without much need for house keys anyway.

"That's lovely Draco. But I have to check that things aren't...I'd kill you if you tarnish my parents good name...drugs, cigarettes, anything else...some toys aren't meant to be played with. They can be addicting you know."

He just smirked, "You think I don't know? Why do you think Skele-Gro has a 'adhere dosage as recommended' and no-responsibility disclaimer clause? Or acid pops are charmed to be unmeltable to little kids, but unfortunately the charms don't fool anyone over the age of twelve? The high from sniffs of Skele-Gro could be quite...a _trip_ and the chemical in acid pops a...lucid effect to many potions. What did you think Slytherins did for fun in our common room parties? Just booze huh?"

Hermione gaped, she never thought about it like that, but now come to think of it, there must be wizarding equivalents of muggle drugs used for parties and the like.

"I...didn't know Hogwarts students did these things. No one from Gryffindor does..."

Draco only smirked some more, "_You_ from Gryffindor don't."

Hermione gaped again, "You mean to say...actually all this time? Right under my nose..."

Draco let out a long low whistle, "Cats out of the bag," he said with a raise of his eyebrows, "'bout time you knew really. I'm surprised you didn't know." It surprised him sometimes, the different ways of thinking Hermione Granger had, and the longer the time she spent around him, the more she became exposed to his perspective, like his very reasonable reasons for name-dropping your family name. As well as the fact that she sometimes lacked full knowledge of the concrete events that occurred around the place. He doubted she would ever have full comprehension, but just being around him produced a little trickle-down effect where she gained concrete knowledge too, of things going on at Hogwarts.

"I'll catch them," she said with determined resolution, "I'll be on my guard. I'll see them and confiscate them should I find a Gryffindor breaking the rules under my watch."

To which Draco just clutched his sides with his arms and face broke out into silent laughter as if she had said something funny. Hermione threw him a glance that said quite indignantly 'what?'.

Draco straightened up a moment later, "Anyways. You don't have to worry about _informing_ me on addiction or withdrawal symptoms Hermione. I don't know any less than you."

"So I wasted about ten minutes of my life following you and trying to get started on a matter I thought was concerning just to be told of?" said Hermione, now actually feeling pissed he'd wasted her time. "You could have told me when you suspected my thoughts and saved me this trip as well as the return trip."

"I can drive you back," said Draco.

"What?" said Hermione.

They had reached the final destination of where Draco had wanted to go originally. Several several streets down from the main street. Not actually near downtown, but a more old, secluded part hidden away by twisting streets near the outskirts of the suburb. The leafy boughs parsing wide open roads suggested a quiet drive to the next suburb or so that wasn't from the noisy motorway. It was here where one could probably conduct discreet business in privacy that wasn't somewhere as obvious (though as facilitating) as downtown. And it was here, that all of a sudden, the hours where Draco was, the thoughts of excitement or contemplation between choices, became clear all of a sudden as Hermione stared at what the inevitable scene was telling her, palms sweaty, knees weak, heart jackrabbiting in her chest.

For there, in the quiet space of a dead end road in this wayward spot at the edge of the suburb, was none other than a slim, slightly smaller than average, blue sports car. The bonnet was a deep dark handsome blue, the headlights raised as part of the design. Round grey wheels almost shiny and glistening in the splotches of sunlight - freshly polished and ready for the show. Whoever sold this car had not intended it to be a dump, it looked quite well cared for. The screens were slightly tinted black, the doors, hood and all the rest the same rich blue, lightning hot wheels, the faintest streaks of orange at the sides, and the same sleek, bullet shape that seemed to permeate through the vehicle. It was a car all right. It was none other than a car. It was a car through and through. The shady branches from the trees seemed to cover it in darkness, the neighbours were quiet and had windows and doors boarded up; wanting nothing but to be left alone; it was here where Hermione felt dizzy with the relief of a good hiding place and the secret that threatened to burst forth from the quiet laidback streets should Draco take it out.

"You bought a car..." she said weakly.

"I bought a car," he said, all happiness and beaming smiles as he tossed the keys up in the car and caught it once.

"You bought a car..." she still stammered weakly.

"I bought a car!" he confirmed, walking up to it, unlocking it and holding out the passenger door open for Hermione, an incredulous smirk on his face as he waited for her to get in, "come on, get in! Let's go for a ride!"

"You don't drive," said Hermione, he was supposed to officially get his license with her parents next week. It could still be a while before he was legally allowed to drive on his own but she doubted she would adhere to those laws. But still, he hadn't even gotten his official license yet.

"I didn't. But Alfred taught me. Now I don't have to use his car anymore," said Draco with a gleeful smile as she stroked the dashboard lovingly, honking the car perhaps once to see what it sounded like. It sounded like music to his ears.

"How much did it cost?" said Hermione, resolutely getting in as Draco reached over and slid the door shut, pulling on their seatbelts (Hermione noted he still put his on), before he turned the key in the ignition, the engine revving up as the car shifted into reverse. He drove out of the space near the side of the dead end street where it was parked, changed gears and then took of down the street. Winding down the windows slightly so a nice breeze ruffled in. Hermione was suddenly reminded of Draco's Quidditch prowess and that the breeze zipping by was likely what he felt on the field.

Now, with lights down low (he did not use high beam once, just the occasional headlights through dark and dimly lit alleyways, or indicator), the sky so infinitely high above them, and the world around them a maze of streets and traffic rules, and the silent communication between other drivers, whilst they, remained trapped in this little bubble of a car, everything seemed more free all of a sudden. The familiar roads disappeared beneath their feet as Draco took twisted winding pathways through the neighbourhood that Hermione's dad never drove, passing by tattoo parlours, twirling on a round-a-bout outside of what Hermione was sure was a hooker's house, dipping through shady streets and going on and off the motorway in the stretch before it really became a motorway and there was no exit for miles. With just the suburbia and the streets around them, wind zooming through their hair, Hermione knowing Draco was taking them for a joy ride before probably driving back home and that they were to have a fair stretch of time before that happened, conversation seemed to flow more easily, and if anything, the mood had seemed to slightly put a damper on Hermione's initial flurrying emotions about it all.

"Not very much. About 14 grand. I got it cheap. Lidge's older half brother was eager to get it of his hands," said Draco, grinning as he sped the car around a corner. Drifting slightly, twirling the car around bends, driving over pot-holed and ragged roads, he really was enjoying it.

"What? Are you sure it's safe?" said Hermione, looking a little alarmed.

"Yes, he's uh, involved in the car dealership business. They usually have high end brands shipped over that they must match up and sell to the optimal customer. Occasionally they get a few rubbish brands. This was one of them, and not enough room to keep it in so he was quite eager to get rid of it. Only had a few drives, perfectly good condition. Lidge's brother shipped me the keys first. I paid him later. Though he knew I had the money. That's how much he wanted the car gone. Know what brand it is?" he asked.

"What?" asked Hermione, notches more calmer though still in some amount of shock.

"Corvette Cruise. It's not a high-end model. Dirt cheap. The other models in the brand are much more expensive. But this baby gets of the road and has a decent mileage so it ain't half bad. It's dirt cheap, I wouldn't want a car like this when I have the choice, but with my finances and constraints right now, I'm more than happy with it."

"You bought a corvette..." The fact that it had a name made it seem all the more real.

"I bought a corvette!" shouted Draco, chuckling, and it was real and deep laughter. A deep seated content as he zoomed around the streets of suburbia, freedom and escape from the war running through his veins.

_He seemed_, Hermione noted, _truly happy_. It was the happiest she'd ever seen him and now come to think of it - had Draco ever been happy? Gleeful yes, satisfied by something going well yes, but true happiness not over someone else's misfortune or his plans going well, but just true and real happiness, rising up from within, singing and echoing from the treetops, the type of real happiness that was enough to power a patronus? Here, driving through the streets, with nothing but the wind on their back and the car zooming through the alleyways with the hot summer sun cascading around them, lights were low, the motorway offering a new opportunity along with the other many messy entanglement of streets, he seemed to ease up and feel true happiness for perhaps the longest time. Suddenly Hermione wondered how he was taking the war, his family were on the dark side after all. She, Harry and Ron had long suspected and confirmed, they were death eaters and whereas she always thought of him as enjoying it, she briefly wondered if perhaps his existence was full of dull pretenses, playing a facade, wanting to support his family but also...the lack of autonomy and if perhaps, just perhaps, this was the first time all summer he felt like he could breathe too...

"Well, I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time," said Draco some time later, pulling in to the curb outside Hermione's house. He parked and they both got out, the slam of the car door sounded so loud in this homely quietness of Hermione's neighbourhood.

"We were gone quite a bit," Hermione checked her watch, about 40 minutes since she first left the house. They had drove about for perhaps half an hour or so.

"I have some more stuff to do with this car. This baby is going to have a lot more adventures together," he said with a satisfied smirk as he locked it with a click of his keys.

Hermione suddenly snapped back to her senses, the thrill of the joyride releasing it's damper on her original thoughts. "Draco?" she said.

"Yes?"

"Where are you going to put it?" Suddenly the 'NO PARKING' sign near Hermione's neighbourhood and the fact that the Corvette's momentary occupation of the driveway in front of her parents house wasn't going to do. Not to mention the fact that Hermione's parents' garage was already filled to the max and that nowhere around, could you really get consecutive overnight parking without huge fines and possibly a criminal record if it's discovered it's the same car. There did not seem to be a space or possibility for a rogue car without a home.

"I...I didn't think of that," admitted Draco, gulping, suddenly his face as white as a sheet...

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with this story! Btw, a Corvette Cruise isn't actually a model, I made it up :P (And if it is...it came about AFTER this story was written xP) As with any real place/anything names in this story anyway. Anyways, hope y'all doing great and enjoyed this chapter, and please please review! :) Thanks so much for the reviews and ideas last chapter, I will definitely use some of them! :D

-WhymsicalBell


	21. Stranded

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 21: Stranded

Hermione was hanging out the laundry after putting dinner on the stove, going about her usual chores for the holidays, and reflecting briefly on the last few days. Harry and Ron had written back. They were both surprised and a little affronted Draco was staying over, but seemed to accept it as something which could happen (afterall, if it was so easy for Voldemort to tamper with the triwizard tournament cup and turn it into a portkey without the ministry knowing, they mustn't be the most heavily guarded magic and these things could happen) and wished Hermione well. Harry only saying whilst he didn't think Draco had the brains or skill to pull of anything, there was still a note of caution to be exercised in case he overheard anything - though it had been ages since they last had communication with the order, and of course, the obligatory 'if he makes a nasty comment or does anything mean, he'll have us to answer for'. With Ron echoing Harry's sentiments, albeit a little more strongly and suggesting Hermione dye his pair pink or something now while he was there to get back at all that had passed in the Hogwarts years.

They were a little affronted but had promised to keep it a secret as to not cause any trouble, and said they were keen to grill Draco on his conduct during the stay once they returned to Hogwarts, something that made her chuckle. Draco's dilemma with his car had been going swimmingly for the past few weeks. Hermione initially hadn't known what happened to it, just after the fated realisation was made, and she had to go inside to answer a phone call from her parents - he'd mumbled something about 'seeing what things were like' and taking it off for a drive somewhere. He had next shown his face later than she thought he would have had the time to solve the problem, and said that there was a free carpark on the other side of the motorway, which he was parking and sleeping in it overnight, than driving it back in the morning. As although the muggle police didn't patrol the area to see who was driving underage, they did check parked cars overnight as it had been illegal to park the same car for several days overnight and trace it back to the registration number and owner. Since Draco was technically underage, didn't have a license and wasn't supposed to drive, and lacked the ability to do magic as he was away from witches and wizards here, and the trace would detect his magic very well, he had no choice but to physically evade the authorities, preferring to leave the car parked overnight for the portion that wasn't spent in town doing his bouncer job.

His presence was barely recorded in the house, as he was swept up in his own business. Just his slightly gaunt but more carefree and relaxed face than Hermione had seen for ages peeping into the house for brief moments as he went about his days. Hermione thought it was tiring him out and that he hated it at first, asking him about it, to which he responded that the other side of the city had some amazing and new sites he had yet to explore, he loved the time and solitude that it bought him, so no, he didn't hate it.

* * *

Some nights ago...Mr and Mrs Granger lounged on the duvet of the king-sized bed with the tv idly playing in the background. The room was toasty warm, the bed filled with the same comfortable pillows with frills around the border that littered the couch in the house, two small glasses of wine and a platter of some strawberries and cheese laid out, as they comfortably nested into each other, watching the tv screen idly in the background.

"Marthy is considering retiring from his practice," said Mrs Granger, swirling her wine around a little.

"Oh? Fabulous practice. Very efficient, very skilled, and very friendly too. Are his children taking over?" asked Mr Granger.

"They're happy helping out part-time but have no real intention of running the business. Marthy says it's run it's course well and he's happy with whatever his children do," chattered Mrs Granger.

"Nice to see old faces turning over and new ones coming in. Ah, the ever present cycles of the industry," mused Mr Granger, clinking his glass with her. They were both very comfortable and chattering idly.

"Yes. Life is going along nicely. And Draco is settling in particularly well. He did satisfactorily well on work placement and has really given us no trouble since he settled in," commented Mrs Granger.

"Yes and you know what they say. Once adjusted in well, always adjusted in well. He's likely to be no trouble for the rest of the holidays. I'm glad our guest is fitting in well, I heard problematic exchange students are a real pain to deal with."

"And he gets along quite well with Hermione too. She can be hot-headed and bossy that one, like what she told us in her letters about Ron in third year, she'll always benefit more from a more level headed person to be around I believe," confessed Mrs Granger.

"He must have that and more. Not only have they not argued, they seem to have quite civil discussions, if not without a healthy dose of good natured humour," said Mr Granger, "really, they click like cogs in a machine. We should be glad the summer's peaceful."

"Mm. They do seem to get along remarkably well for Hogwarts students that never had much to do with each other. Draco seems quite the charmer, those types can be dangerous at times, and do come with a bit of a carefully welded edge. But he does seem that type, I've noticed," said Mrs Granger.

"Oh? And how do you know that? Me?" said Mr Granger, revealing quite the wily grin as he brushed a few tendrils of hair out of her face.

"Don't flatter yourself Daniel," she said, swatting his hand away playfully.

"Alright I was joking. Still, I concede to nothing but happiness and gratitude that Hermione and Draco get along so well for the holidays," he said.

"Mm, I know they get along. I'm glad they do, and I think you can't tell everything. But do you ever just, get the feeling there's more going on between them?" asked Mrs Granger.

"You mean like a romance?" inquired Mr Granger.

"Something like that," said Mrs Granger.

"Well, if there were I'd imagine them the types to figure it out for themselves for a bit and keep a lid on it until school's finished, you know with the importance of NEWTs as Hermione so frequently tells us, and you can never say for certain, as I know such 'old people' like us may not understand the youth nowadays, but yes, you know now that I think of it, I can't help but feel as if there's something going on..."

"We shouldn't speculate, and I suppose we'll never know unless they tell us, but I'm glad I'm not the only one who gets the feeling..." and so the two shared an identical grin before returning back to conversations about work, friends, possibly all the trips and interesting things they wanted to do in retirement, and heaps more with a good chorus of laughter.

* * *

_Brrrrng. Brrrrng. _

_Brrrrng. Brrrrng. _

Hermione picked up her cellphone from where it was vibrating in her pocket just as she was almost done with the clothes, feeling the hard surface of the phone between her ear and shoulder as she wrenched it in place there. "Hello?" she said, noticing it was Draco. He'd exchanged phone numbers with her as well as her parents in case of 'emergencies'.

"Hello, hope chores and dinner are going well for you. You remember what I'm doing with the car?" His voice held just a note of nervousness.

"Mm," Hermione mumbled between her teeth as she finished hanging up the past one, grabbing a few stray pegs to put back in the box.

"You know how I park my car in the free carpark with overnight parking on the city at the other side of the motorway?" he pressed onwards, a tangle of nerves was starting to be present in Hermione too at this.

"Mmm," she mumbled, dropping the last few with an ever-resounding clatter.

"Well usually there's a low fee toll, charges a different price depending on what vehicle it is. You know, car, truck, trailer and so on. And well...the magnetism for the car one is malfuctioning at the moment. They say the internal parts broke down, as they do once every 10 or 15 years or something, so the toll's closed for cars for a bit, and they're having a repairman come and fix it as soon as possible-"

"How long would that be?" said Hermione, sucking in a nervous breath through her teeth.

"Uh, a few days. I won't be able to drive back through the toll way from this side for several days. There's a nice hotel here...let me see," the crunch-crunch of footsteps followed, "bed and breakfast. Affordable with my wages..."

Hermione blanked, feeling like a weight had just plunged into her stomach, and the blood drain out from her face, "you're _stranded_, for several days?"

"Stranded. Think of it like being stranded with new adventures in an unfamiliar area for several days! This city is way bigger than I thought now that I've gotten out of the carpark and walked around! It's cool."

"_I'm going to have to explain your absence to my parents for several days_?" And the hotel. Was it even safe? What if they wanted payment by card as opposed to Draco using his card to withdraw cash from the bank and then paying? Had he even paid for anything with a card before? Did he even know how muggle hotels worked? He must've stayed at wizarding ones but...so many opportunities for it to go wrong. Draco trapped and stranded on some other part of the muggle world, miles and miles from here, on the other side of the motorway. Hermione glanced up at the darkening sky and bit her lip, oh what was to be done? She hadn't expected it to get to this. This was by far the biggest thing to have happened this holidays.

"That would be correct. There's no other way. I can't make the time pass quicker. Hey, this says 'card or cash'. Does that mean I can use the card somehow to pay instead of going to an bank and drawing money? And what do all the packages mean? When we go on holidays my family knows the hotel owner generally, so we just stay for however long and whereabouts in the hotel we want, and after the duration they give us a sum and we just pay it..."

"I-I suppose there has to be a way to think of something. Uh, you just tap the card on a telephone shaped thing-"

"Found it," Draco's voice came over the voice, it was starting to compete with the crumbles and crackles to be heard, Hermione supposed this hotel didn't have the best exception in the lobby area, "Sweet. It looks cool...hey what's that-"

"If anyone asks say you're 16 by the way," said Hermione, the last time she checked if you weren't old enough to drive a car with a license, you weren't old enough to legally pay for hotels under your name.

"Alright," said Draco, his voice was blurry and interspersed with a couple of cracks, was it her or did she hear some chuckling and the faint tinkle of piano music from somewhere coming through. "Hey, I think the phone's breaking up," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "sometimes patronuses aren't more clearly heard in certain atmospheres too," then raising it again, "someone's coming over. I believe I have to small talk for a bit before everything's finalised and it'll be okay for the next few days. I'll give you one last call before dinner alright?"

Hermione paused, feeling like the weight of the world was on her tongue and that it was rubber, a heavy feeling rising in her chest. The horizon looked so dark now...she wanted to object somehow, feeling like it was a stupid, ridiculous, idea that was going to get them both killed, but also knowing that until a better plan was thought up, there was nothing better to do than going along with it.

"Alright," she mumbled a little unhappily into the phone before it clicked goodbye, thinking that the excuse of Draco going camping with his new friends was the one with the highest chance of being bought by her parents with an edge of newfound bittersweet worries trailing after her as she went inside, where the lights were on and the darkness settled in tomes of gloominess all around her in the garden and the faraway horizon, like a dust that swept the city.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, review please? I've been feeling a bit discouraged because it's my first story and so far I've only got 39 reviews for 20 (this is the 21st) chapters...I am a little disappointed because I wanted to hear more readers thoughts on the chapters. So please review if you have anything to say, it would be highly appreciated! :D

-WhymsicalBell


	22. Spacing Out

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 22: Spacing Out

"He's on a trip with his friends? So let me get this straight...at 4.25 today they just decided it would be a good idea to camp overnight in the national park about three hours away from here? And they left all of a sudden?" Mrs Granger grilled her whilst thumbing over bills as they sat in the safe confines of the kitchen, the gloominess from the dusk settling on the table top, the mantelpiece, the walls, all the surfaces around them, with only the bright ceiling lights to distract. Nonetheless, a heavy air had settled as Mr and Mrs Granger got to some business with the monthly bills and other items, occasionally popping in to confirm things with each other, as they unpacked from their day, having just arrived a few moments before. Bowls of spaghetti with sauce were laid out on the table, the cutlery having yet to be laid out.

"Yes. Henry, Alfred and Lidge. They thought to make use of leaf burning season and offer to help out with the activities, doing a bonfire in the process. I think they're smuggling one or two bottles of beer, you know, teenage stuff," the lies felt new and fresh on Hermione's tongue, but she kept at it anyway, it was better to add in a small no good so her mum wouldn't suspect the larger ones, she felt. "I think they're meeting up with their cousins or something. Bonfire, some beer, they wanted to do something cool before school started."

"When are they coming back? Mrs Granger asked, ripping open the envelope to the last bill.

"By the evening of the third day. So he's staying two nights," said Hermione, her tongue still it's thickness that it was outside and feeling like there was a pit of snakes slithering about inside her stomach. This was one of the first times she outwardly told a lie to her parents since before Hogwarts, and she was a little apprehensive of it. The things Draco's stay made her do.

"Hmm...right okay. Well...Draco always seemed a little the devious type, so I suppose I can imagine it. Tell him to have fun with his mates but stay safe," mumbled Mrs Granger, before gathering up some envelopes and preparing to go upstairs.

"Right...thanks!" Hermione almost squeaked out as her mums footsteps faded from the room. Her parents believed her but just.

Once they had satisfactorily had dinner together, with Hermione offering to do the dishes to clear the tables as soon as possible and doing them the fastest she had perhaps remembered doing them for a long while, she took her phone and went out to the backyard, feeling the breeze fresh on her face as she got her moments of privacy alone.

"Draco?" she hissed into the receiver, feeling slightly nervous. Draco had adapted so well, weller than she thought she might perhaps have if the roles were reversed and suddenly she had to adapt to high class wizarding society (and even then, a part of her felt Draco, as aloof and cutting as he could be, still had the same old aristocratic air that would refuse to go, and would have played the part of the hostess well and introduced her to high class wizarding society well, or at least, better than what she had here, which was barely anything if she was honest. She mostly let him get on with his own life, which he carved out very well for himself, almost too well, like he belonged...), but he was still a wizard who only had about a month's worth of experience in the muggle world...

There were all these possibilities of things going wrong, him accidentally exposing himself or getting caught up in something he didn't know about, it was safer when he was within the neighbourhood but now that he was somewhere halfway across the country, in a different city some faraway part from the motorway, things had definitely changed, it was a new ball game.

"What are you doing? Have you got settled in yet? Have they given you the hotel key and everything? There's a small black rectangular box that you have to scan the barcode through-"

"Yes. Everything's fine. You don't worry. I've got everything settled in now," he responded, Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Was it her or did he sound in pain? Like he was trying to cover up something.

"Have unlocked your room to check that it works? And put your bags underneath the bed? It's the safest place for valuables in case of a theft. Oh you don't have bags. Best to sleep with your wallet underneath your pillow then. Charge your cellphone also, there's ports near the ground on the wall. Have you found them yet?"

"Yes. Yes. No need to worry. Everything's fine and all settled down here," the phone cracked up some more. Hermione felt her heart race and her palms sweat, he was still in the lobby? What was he doing there now? He ought to go up before the nefarious crowd came to gamble at the hotel's miniature casino, she had googled the name he texted her briefly enough to know that the hotel establishment had a casino, indoor pool, gym, wreck room, and among others as it's facilities. The crowd that often frequented hotels for the exact purpose of gambling, and often because they had too notorious of a reputation for the legitimate casinos that they may have been kicked out of or enmity with other regular casino-goers were generally not a nice crowd you wanted to mess with...

"Where are you? You're not in the hotel room are you? What's your room key? Repeat it to me?" she asked, feeling almost the throb of each and every single beat in her heart, a chilling sensation racing through her veins.

"Uh, it's uh. It's a silver one," said Draco, "a big intricate silver one. Lots of notches."

He sounded exactly like a wizard who hadn't actually picked up their room key would describe a room key.

"Where are you right now? Are you alright?" asked Hermione, hearing her voice go higher by the minute.

"What makes you think that? You have no clue to say that," said Draco, sounding more agitated by the second.

Hermione tried not to say it, she knew she shouldn't have voiced it but her growing suspicions were too loud to deny, "oh my god. Are you alright?"

A pause. "I should be. I've never been more alright than right now."

"You don't sound okay? Please don't space out on me..."

"I won't. I have more to live for. Whatever happens I won't lose my mind, and I'll be back. I swear," then a series of sudden cracks and spurt across the phone told her the connection had died.

Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. A bunch of images flashed across her mind. Draco getting checked by the police on a random inspection for his driver's license and having to be escorted to jail. Draco running into a gang of thugs outside the hotel somewhere. Draco getting kidnapped or murdered. Who knew what the other city was like? It was still in virtually the middle of nowhere that she had never gone. Yes there were surrounding cities near her suburb, but her parents had mostly gone to some other ones down south, passing through on their way to vacations, or to meet family, they were generally smaller scale and more friendly than this particular city, whom she didn't think she had ever gone even once in her life.

Any manner of things could happen. He had been adjusting so well, but nonetheless, he was still only several weeks into the muggle world. Hermione knew he wouldn't have liked her interference, and he had taken care of himself so well with all his plans, but perhaps this time, she knew the right thing to do was to go and get him. Go fetch him, convince him to go home and leave the car there, sell the wretched car maybe, who cared about his pet vehicle - he didn't need one anyway, and then go home before any real damage could be done with a sigh of relief. Or at least, that was how she pictured it before packing her phone (luckily fully charged), her wallet, house keys, a few other items into a small bag and staring at the darkness of the night sky, the cheerful cicadas seemingly fading into the distance as she mapped the trip from her place to the city on the other side of the motorway that she had never visited. Perhaps...it was time to make a visit...

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and the 3 reviews on the last chapter. I really love reading your thoughts so review for this chapter (pretty please!) if you have anything to say! :D

-WhymsicalBell


	23. What Really Happened Part I

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 23: What Really Happened Part I

Draco had left the quiet town of Hermione's suburb, and was driving out to the city on the other side of the motorway where he usually parked the car in an overnight carpark whilst waiting for the morning to come. It was dusk and the sky was streaked with sombre amber and blue, among the purple-flutters of clouds, as the car cruised along the grey-walled motorway. Trees, rooftops, and poles with telephone wires zipping by as he drove onwards and onwards. The windows were down, and the wind brought with it a faint taste of wood smoke and bitterness that he could taste, as if chewable, on his tongue, as the car continued it's journey. All around him traffic kept paces and never got too far ahead or behind him; always surrounded, by the same grumpy passengers that were edging for their break in the motorway exits, he would do the same.

This was quaint, the muggle world, it really was. There might've been no magic, and no wave of a wand (not that it solved most things these days), and no wonderlust and the soft touches of ingenuity magic bought, it was, as some notable people would describe it - boring, and completely devoid of all elements which made life interesting. No flying, no conjurations out of thin air, no sense of convenience with simply wound complex pieces of magic to make household or daily tasks easier, but yet...there was a sense of solidity about it. The muggle world. Cars weren't bad, thought Draco, and he was sure there were some intricate secrets behind how their mechanics worked. Perhaps less showy than magic, but there was something about it all the same. And the mundanity of it all, people living about their daily lives, using the muggle contraptions all around, getting about their daily lives with little regard for anyone else, but yet all coexisting and overlapping in the same world, and the freedom of choice. He felt like he could continue his job as a bouncer if he wanted, or quit any minute, or pick up a new job in a muggle movie theatre, or even more. In some ways, the muggle world felt so so free, shades of free that he never experienced, not at his...the wizarding world came back. All the blood politics and notions of old or notable families came rushing back. In some ways, his role in the wizarding world was trapped, bound, by something he wasn't even fully sure he wanted.

"The toll's broken-" a gravelly coarse voice said, deeply rich with tobacco.

"Huh-" Draco wound down his windows a little bit more.

Tall, broad-shouldered and imposing, a man with short spiky hair and weathered face glanced back from where he had been leaning against a metal machine that Draco vaguely knew beeped everytime he drove past. With a lurch he realised all the times traffic drifted to a stop and then started again, that had been absentmindedly passing him by as he drove, was due to this guy pulling everyone over as they passed the machine and having a word or two with them.

"Yeah the toll's broken. Once in a 10 or 15 year repair needed. You see this? Electromagnetism..." his knuckle rapped the side of the bulky metallic box sharply, and Draco suddenly felt a dull headache come over him. He hadn't known enough 'muggle' to know what that meant, but he knew enough to know it was broken. "Parts wore out. It's not going to work going back the opposite direction. No toll fee, no passage. We block all traffic going in that direction for a while," the man said, his gruff voice unforgiving as his fingers remained pointed at the box, as if ready to personally pounce in and attack the driver if they dared show no signs of comprehension.

"How long?" asked Draco, licking his lips nervously and changing grip on the steering wheel. He had about the night and the next half day or so before Hermione's parents would start to really notice his absence and give him hell for it - or her, both were unpleasant.

"Three days. It takes some time for the specific repairman for this to travel here. Good day, and DON'T, even try to think about worming your way out of a toll fee," he said, leaning in and waggling his dirt-covered fingers at him. A globule of spit nestled between his teeth and lower lip, as a cigarette butt hung out of his mouth, as if ready to spit into the car seat of any driver who dared show the slightest sign of disagreement. Draco was once again reminded of how tall and broad he was. Almost enough to give the only half-giant he knew; Hagrid from Hogwarts - a run for his money perhaps.

And with a last clap on the window's edge, the man withdrew his hands and face from the inside of the car, Draco felt his heartbeat slow and the hair on the back of his neck drop as his foot on the accelerator took the car forwards once more, breaths slowly back down to normal as he inched further and further into a city that was suddenly becoming all the more foreboding, yet home - as it would have to be - for the next few days, as he absentmindedly drove toward a series of white buildings with sparkling waterfall fountains in front. He sensed a little more than a carpark would have to do for the next two nights and day, and he was on the lookout for the place that called to him. He suspected that when the man said 'three days', he meant the repairman was likely to arrive on the third and due to working hours tending to finish earlier than at night, it was likely the repair work was going to be finished before the day was over so he could have time to drive back before night really fell - earlier perhaps. But he did need a place to stay for the next two nights.

The city was big - bigger than the one in Hermione's hometown, he could tell. In fact, Hermione's hometown almost seemed a smaller and more homely derivative of this. For starters, there were tall buildings - skyscrapers, the word vaguely came to mind, that stretched high into the air, and they seemed scattered like huge stalks of grass, this way and that. One skyscraper wasn't an oddity or something special or anything, but there were literary so many, scrawled across the horizon and landscape. Walkways of glass and plastic hung between buildings, a million other different stores, each specialising in their own thing, sprawled around the city. Cars, and cars with the four letter word 'taxi' scrawled about drove between buildings and roads, as he navigated the narrow city streets, looking for a place to park. This was bigger, and more interesting too at a glance. Excitement started flooding into his arms and fingertips, as his mind mapped different city streets and things to do like a rally on the Quidditch pitch to seek the snitch at the fastest pace possible. This was new, this was exciting. Perhaps the original downturn with the toll being broken wasn't the downside he thought it was, and it was the start of a new good adventure.

The car slowed to a stop where the traffic waned, Draco stared through the tinted glass of his car window. A tall building, see-through glass front with black marble walls glittering with a tiny thousand sparkles embedded within, a fancy sort of lobby was briefly seen from his vantage point. Shrubs and hedges cut into perfect animal shapes, a sprawling white fountain with glistening blue sheens of water sparkling and bubbling from the top, splashing down, with an almost comical amount of butterflies or insects fluttering about near the front. Pretty little flowers in a bloom of colours decorated the shrubs and hedges, he could hear the faint strains of piano music wafting out. This was the one, a hotel to stay in for the night, something called out to him.

He had Hermione on dial as he found the entrance to the indoor carpark, parked his car and got out. She picked up within two rings.

"Hello?" she said, sounding so smooth and polished, and so blissfully aware and happy of all difficulties as he heard her voice flood over the phone.

"Hello, hope chores and dinner are going well with you," he said, remembering what Hermione was absentmindedly saying to him before he left, "You remember what I was doing with the car?" He felt just a bit nervous as he reached the elevator, he'd seen them going up and down on the sides of see-through glass buildings so he had the vague feeling what they did, but this would be his first time figuring them out - or what he thought was an elevator anyway.

"Mm." It was hard to tell what Hermione was thinking.

Draco pressed on, "You know how I park my car in the free carpark with overnight parking on the city at the other side of the motorway?"

"Mmm," came her response.

"Well usually there's a low fee toll, charges a different price depending on what vehicle it is. You know, car, truck, trailer, and so on. And well...the magnetism for the car one is malfunctioning at the moment. They say the internal parts broke down, as they do once every 10 or 15 years or something, so the toll's closed for cars a bit, and they're having a repairman come and fix it as soon as possible-"

"How long would that be?" came Hermione's response.

"Uh, a few days. I won't be able to drive back through the toll way side for several days. There's a nice hotel here...let me see," Draco was lucky the elevator finally opened as he said it. He had debilitated whether to press '1' as it seemed the first level on the ground, and he knew he parked in the first underground level G1, but the 'G' level between them just seemed too innocuous to miss, and apparently the underground levels were G1, G2, etc, whilst G was the ground level of the lobby, he realised, as the doors opened and he was greeted with tinkling piano music, a bubbling water fountain near the end, incensed rooms and a receptionist who looked up slowly with a smile of acknowledgement before returning to her work.

He ignored the plush couches and white marble table with a vase of floral bouquet on it as he found a see-through stand containing stacks of pamphlets. "bed and breakfast. Affordable with my wages..." he said, grateful that he had remembered to bring his wallet with him before he left and aware of how it was conveniently in his pocket.

Hermione's voice was less than enthused, "you're _stranded_, for several days?"

But what had caught Draco's attention was a series of revolving side doors, which lead to a casino, small gym and sauna area. The white paned glass turning round and round seemed to showcase each glimmering world for a split second, before disappearing as the spokes turned, as if reminding him of how much limited time he had to spend here and get the most entertainment out of it before the two nights and three days were quickly over. It seemed the music was slightly louder in the casino, faint stains of tobacco smoke, but a more exquisite type, wafted out like fresh fingers beckoning him in. The little bit of trepidation that had gathered when he was confused about the elevators came back in his stomach, his chest, his fingertips which were just jumping with excitement, and he found his gaze drawn to the casino for a few long moments before he returned his reply, "Stranded. Think of it like being stranded with new adventures in an unfamiliar area for several days! The city is way bigger than I thought now that I've gotten out of the carpark and walked around! It's cool!" he said, and the small trips to just the overnight carpark he parked in before returning back to Hermione's home town seemed paled by comparison. Now that he had gotten out of the carpark and walked around (albeit in his car) or just, truly taken a sightseeing tour around the city, it had seemed infinitely bigger and more complex than just the small route from toll way, to overnight carpark, and back, he had done before. Previously he had mostly been too tired and just relieved he found a place to park his car to do anything more.

"_I'm going to have to explain your absence to my parents for several days?" _Draco felt a stab of annoyance, why was it that people never acted the way you thought they would? But he was here now, and all he needed was an explanation and to comfortingly nip Hermione's woes in the bud before he could be free to explore what he liked, the thought of that sent blood racing through his body.

"That would be correct. There's no other way. I can't make the time pass quicker. Hey, this says 'card or cash', he said, distracted by a small rectangular like object he hadn't noticed before, "Does that mean I can use the card somehow to pay instead of going to a bank and drawing money? And what do all the packages mean?" he said, staring at the 1&1, 2-for-1, family fun, etc, signs on all these complicated little placards and pamphlets he didn't seen notice or consider before. It seemed muggle administration was even more of a hassle than wizarding administration was - which wasn't much for most pureblood families when they went to the bank or abroad for the wizarding world was so much more simpler in a way, and there wasn't as much complex information to record or divulge, "When we go on holidays my family knows the hotel owner generally, so we just stay for however long and whereabouts in the hotel we want, and after the duration they give us the sum and we just pay it..."

"I-I suppose there has to be a way to think of something," said Hermione, Draco realised with a jolt that the onus of explaining his absence and concocting a lie would all be completely on her, despite the fact that he was probably more comfortable with lies and pretenses than she was, even to her parents, anyway, but then, wasn't it always harder to lie to your own? "Uh, you just tap the card on a telephone shaped thing-"

"Found it," said Draco, and realised with annoyance the lapses in the piano music he heard wasn't actually from the piano music lapses, but rather his phone which was crackling and breaking up it seemed. A similar thing happened with patronuses in unfamiliar atmospheres too. Ah, these life inconveniences were present in both worlds. "Sweet. It looks cool, hey what's that..." he said, noticing a small subsection of the casino full of upside down champagne flutes and bottles, with what looked like a table and many chairs drawn up about it, and many more bottles of bubbling liquids or smoking sheens surrounding it. Like a muggle version of potions class, and for the first time, the muggle world felt magical too. As if he was seeing the muggle version full of it's own _muggle-magic_ of the mundane version from his world.

"If anyone asks you're 16 by the way," came Hermione's response.

"Alright," said Draco, as his phone crackled up some more. He supposed it may be one of those things where the longer it went on, the more crackly it would get if it was already going to be crackly. He'd witnessed the exact same thing with patronuses his parents received from associates or friends throughout his childhood enough times to see the haunting similarity. "Hey, I think the phone's breaking up," he dropped his voice for Hermione's benefit so she could hear his thoughts but didn't want anyone else to catch wind of him being a wizard or anything out of the ordinary here, not that there were that many people around, though he spotted a few burly figures in the far edges of the bar, the gym, and moving about from the elevator in the clear glass-section at the end of every corridor he'd observed before driving into the carpark of the hotel, "sometimes patronuses aren't more clearly heard in certain atmospheres too," sharp footsteps and the raise of the hair on his neck told him he had company. He straightened up, didn't want to make a dour impression on the first (interesting) person he would meet in a hotel like this. Afterall, he'd had good experiences with his muggle friends Henry, Alfred and Lidge, and Hermione's friends as well, in a new and unfamiliar environment. He could do with a nimble and interesting friend who knew his way around these parts of he was able to chance to encounter someone like that.

"someone's coming over. I believe I have to smalltalk for a bit before everything's finalised and it'll be okay for the next few days," he said, thinking of how the receptionist looked like she was expecting him to say something after he took his time about at the start. Yep, definitely more complicated and he would definitely had to go through a series of information exchanges with the receptionist in the muggle world before administration was finalised, he had the sense of, "I'll give you one last call before dinner alright?" he asked, feeling like it was probably going to happen in the next few hours following the administration and everything.

"Alright," said Hermione, before her end of the line clicked shut.

"New fella around the block eh?" The voice was thick with dulcet tones, a finger tapped on his shoulder and Draco spun around to be faced with a man who strongly looked like an older version of one of his friends. He was taller than Draco by a good head or so, bed of unruly blonde-brown curls, with hazel eyes and a jovial sort of upturn of the mouth as he smiled. He was dressed in blacks and browns with a long flourishing travellor's cloak, a silvered pair of handcuffs sticking out his back pocket, and either a long stick or a short cane the length of his forearm - Draco couldn't tell, that was mostly black with a sharp white tip at the end of it. Perhaps it disguised a knife end. Draco had seen these handcuffs around police officers enough to know they were for restraining people if mixed with the wrong end of the law. There was an emergency pair in the nightclub he worked as a bouncer at for that record, but he was told to not use them unless it as a last resort as police didn't know they had them, and he supposed like guns, they were something you more or less equipped with if you dabbled on the wrong end of the law. Things in a friend that could come in handy in this part of the city.

"Yes just passing through. Haven't travelled here before, not quite what I'm used to," he said, thinking that it was stupid to try and pretend he was a regular, especially if this guy was, and it was so plainly obvious he might as well make it apparent here he wasn't used to it, but he tried to make it out to be he was used to travelling and this was just one of his locations. As if he was familiar or well-renowned in his home turf or domain somewhere, not that he was really a regular in any establishment or club. Even his job at the nightclub wasn't close to true membership or regularity with a gang or just affiliated with some purpose really. And suddenly he felt like a dandelion head, drifting listlessly through the wind, unmanned to a particular purpose out here.

"Ah, well you must see the sights and experience the highs and everything. This is a star casino, and there's a good bar over there - you have to visit at least once. I can tell you a number of good stories about this place," he said, leading him towards the shining revolving door that lead exactly towards the casino which had caught Draco's attention earlier.

"Please," Draco said, allowing the man to lead the way, thinking a few stories were interesting. And if he needed to get out, he could easily lie that the receptionist was waiting on him for something administration related, he hadn't really checked in yet besides choosing the bare minimum package and paying, but there was room to pretend he needed information about other things. His slytherin instincts were kicking in in this new place.

"Wonderful young boy. I bet you have a few amazing stories of your own to tell," he said, a smile and Draco noticed he had three golden teeth, two spread out and symmetrical about a centre one on his top row of teeth, "and so do I, as I've said. Let me tell you, we will have an amazing time and I will show you amazing things around here. You won't regret," he said, a flash of otherwise dazzling teeth before the revolving doors swung a full revolution behind them, they were firmly in the casino. It was colder in here, fresh scent of mint and lavender wafted out, the day's events caught up to him and suddenly Draco felt tired and a thirst for something to drink.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading, if you're still sticking with the story, and sorry for leaving it for so long! I was unexpectedly busy, but life is still looking busy about now so this story's updates are truly irregular, I can't promise when the next chapter comes but enjoy this one~~

Thank you once again for reading, and pretty please review! It would be lovely to still see responses after such a long time! C:

Cheers,

-WhymsicalBell


	24. What Really Happened Part II

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 24: What Really Happened Part II

The inside of the casino was very dark, and Draco didn't particularly see very much of it, for his new friend led him directly to the bar, where they were served whisky on ice by an elderly bartender who seemed to know his new friend very well, and gave of the air of having seen too many things to have a further care in the world. It was sharp and rich on his tongue as Draco tipped it back, observing his friend who did the same.

"You ever had these before?" asked his new friend, he had a very smooth and rich voice, one that seemed to invite conversation.

"All the time," said Draco, tipping another back, and it was indeed an expensive brand he'd had before at least once at his place. He could tell his new friend seemed to take that into account for Draco didn't grimace at the sharp burn as much as perhaps a complete first-timer would, "You drink a lot?"

"My second wife would say I have a problem," said his friend, before roaring with laughter, Draco followed his lead, guessing that the punchline was the second wife part, and maybe he didn't really have one - just a series of drunken girls on one night stands perhaps.

"I'll treat you to a better one. My tab," said his friend, waving the bartender over, a wonderfully dark green drink appeared, "You've got to try something you haven't before tonight. Anyways, I'm Alfredo. Alfredo Magnificado. And you are?" he asked, the hand he offered for Draco to shake punctured his thoughts at the ridiculous name. He shook hands before he lost the window of time where it was impolite to wait further to do so. Perhaps it was because he was a muggle and Draco still had some unfamiliarities with muggles, that the name didn't ring an alarm bell so much. Perhaps muggles really did have those names. What would he know.

"Edward, Edward Cromwell," said Draco, resulting to an old name he would pretend to be as a kid. It was inspired from the old English kings and queens in the 1600s that apparently the Malfoys used to run into and use magic to somehow trick them into obtaining surrounding land nearby, adding to the Malfoy wealth. His parents had told him of this section of the family history, though obviously instructed him to keep quiet, and he would look at the faces that were more amicable with the Malfoys during their descendants time decorated around the family tree in the family tapestry, and fancied a king a nice profession. When Crabbe and Goyle were over as kids, they'd sometimes pick characters to be conquering the land and Draco would pretend to be King Cromwell. In hindsight it was actually a muggle he was pretending, but somehow the king aspect seemed to make it cool back then and it just seemed like royalty to him, and not anything else, oh to be that young and innocent of all prejudice...

If Alfred gave a slight twitch of his ears or raise of his eyebrows at that, Draco wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, as he continued sipping the drink. Alfred motioned for a top-up. It was pleasant, but strong, and indeed something he hadn't tried before.

"So what are you here for?" asked Alfred, sipping some more of his drink.

"A new job and trying to sell an old car," said Draco, knowing full well if he mentioned just the car he would be seen as someone to con things out of, truthfully, he wouldn't mind discussing options on how to get rid of it. As great as it was, he was aware that he couldn't keep the car when he returned to Hogwarts and something would have to be done about it eventually, "What business are you doing here?"

"The usual, I'm always around these areas. It's none of your business exactly what it is though. I'm a...magician of sorts. But that's an art in itself too," said Alfred, sipping his drink with a grin, "I had a friend that had a car he wanted to get rid of..."

A magician? He didn't know what that was, but it had the same ending as a dental technician, that he'd heard before, so it sounded like a formal job of sorts. One Draco didn't think was worth questioning.

And just like that, Alfredo spun tales upon tales of his exploits. Calling back stories of his friends, who seemed to get into amazing things, selling secondhand cars like it was nothing and wrangling a surprisingly good deal out of someone who just miraculously wanted to have that particular car off his hands, winning big at casinos, the great game, the 'big night' that had been looked forward to for a long time, catching wind of a new drug dealer that just arrived in town who miraculously had just a little to spare, not enough to get caught, but enough to have fun, of hidden secrets, beautiful women. The stories went on, each with a new twist, and Draco was finding them particularly interesting and enjoying the slights of tongue from his friend, even if at the back of his mind, he knew most of them were probably fucking bullshit. Alfredo was the first person he heard real tales from, or the closest to real tales, about exploits in the muggle world, and although it wasn't what he planned on doing, it was interesting, afterall, his three friends Alfred, Henry and Lidge were teenagers at most, and whatever tales they had more or less toed those restrictions.

It was nice and Alfredo seemed to keep talking, with great grandeur and penchant for telling stories, Draco had the vague idea he wasn't expecting any real input from him and he was going to be treated to a nice series of stories so he lapped it up and laughed or smiled at all the right moments.

It wasn't bad really.

Except for the growing rage that seemed to rise within him. While he was listening to Alfredo, his mind was flashing to the muggle world and back to the wizarding world. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the alias of Edward Cromwell he was taking, which he was bitterly reminded of with every 'Edward, as I was saying...' from Alfredo that seemed to pull him back, but a part of him resented the wizarding world and longed for the freedom of the muggle world.

Yes, in the wizarding world he was rich. Yes, he had riches beyond his wildest dreams, and he supposed he never noticed just how much galleons was in his family's bank vault, that seemed disposable at his reach - nothing, no toy, no event, no tool, that he ever wanted seemed to cost too much, and yes he had fame and his family name was enough to strike respect in the hearts of many well-adjusted people who knew the wizarding world politics but...he lacked the freedom to do what he wanted. He couldn't get any job he wanted, he couldn't marry any woman he wanted, he couldn't live any lifestyle he wanted, and he couldn't be friends with any person he wanted, and if he did...it would be seen as betrayal...betraying age-held battle lines or long-held virtues, it would be seen as betraying his family, who worked so long and hard, all for it to go to waste with what he did. He would never have that freedom to be as he was or do as he wanted to, in the muggle world, that he did in the wizarding world. And...suddenly things flashed in Draco's eye. Being allowed to do what he wanted to do, with just his parents support. If the pureblood pathway was to do a job, any job, and do it well, or pick out any life and his parents would support him. Any wife. Suddenly his mind flashed of Hermione. Happy images of her in their younger years at Hogwarts, the sun beaming down on her head of bushy curls, that gleam of excitement and wonder in her eye, oh as if she wasn't enthralled and entranced by the castle. Of walking through the Hogwarts corridors; sunshine and laughter in the fresh chilly air, of long conversations and fingers laced together, of studying together (she was one of the few students who matched him in how seriously they took their studies, or he, her), of going on little dates and talking to her, actually talking to her, about her real thoughts or opinions on little things. Of actually being allowed to fall in love with...a girl who cared about her studies, as Draco did when he began Hogwarts per his parents requests, but actually found in Slytherin a fair amount didn't care about studies as much as they had their purebloodedness, or just quite frankly weren't interested in it, and there was some overlap there. A girl who was classy and had a respect for manners, someone who...in another world perhaps they could have been together. Maybe, in a way, they were perfect for each other...

Perhaps if all the blood politics didn't exist, and Draco was simply a normal student, he would have walked into Hogwarts, seen Hermione was the ideal girlfriend from the start and waltzed her away before anyone else even had a chance. Perhaps...and suddenly he saw it. This summer holidays, the trip, seemed to show him all the positives and complexities about the muggle world, and the freedom of choices beyond familial snares, as well as the subtle, but present, good points of Hermione. Her patience, her explanations, her care, the banterous conversations they had back and forth...perhaps...the broken portkey functioned as a _one-way-ticket_ to another world, another reality, in more ways than one, that once seen, could not be unseen...

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts by a dark shape looming over him. "Wanna fight?" Alfredo had gotten up, a steely glint in his eye, Draco followed a little unsteadily, suddenly aware of how much he drank and the effects truly beginning to weigh down on him. "There's an old game we used to play. Don't really know a man til you fight them. First fight to see who's the real boss," he said, squaring up his knuckles and cracking them, "But I give you a chance. Lots of times the little blokes come out on top. I'm excited to see where this is going to go," he finished, beginning to jump on his toes a little bit.

The bartender began to move some glasses out of the way without even batting an eye, whistling a merry tune as he polished the insides of...how many glasses had Draco drank and watched the bartender now scrub dry after washing?

"Alright," Draco said, figuring that if the bartender did that it meant it was a fairly common thing and others rose to the challenge - he didn't want to look stupid after all, "Give me your best hit," he said, getting into a stance as well.

"On three," said Alfredo, "one...two...three-"

He started of with a light punch, Draco was able to block, his blood pumping through his veins, heart racing, he gave an upper to Alfredo's cheek. It seemed to catch him of guard and he stumbled back slightly, close to losing his centre of balance, perhaps this wouldn't be too bad...

Suddenly the fight flipped and Alfredo charged at Draco with three mean left hooks that left his cheek bones bruised and his eyes watering, and it seemed Alfredo was holding back, for he suddenly executed a series of sharp, sudden, painful moves, with pain sizzling and ricocheting all throughout Draco's body, as he was flipped upside down and landed on the floor. The room blurred, a lightness, whether from all the drinks or the fight, left him feeling like he was losing reality, and although he didn't pass out, he knew he was disencumbered from steadily processing reality for that moment, as he felt his hearing buzz and a tall dark shape kick him over and cuss at him. "First rule of not being a wanker," said the man, his voice dropping low and gravelly in a sneer, "is to not accept a fight after drinks you've had you shit. It's not a fair fight you loser. And that's just the first of a long line of things you need to learn if you want to be half as successful as I am," and with that the dark shape left.

The bartender offered Draco a mint and lemon water. He was about to accept when...a familiar buzz sounded in his pocket. He placed an arm out on the counter and shifted his weight there, trying to catch his breath as he answered. That damn Alfredo, and it wasn't even a stupid rule - what did his father say - it's not a fair duel if you were served drinks you never had before it, but why hadn't be noticed it in the muggle setting? Maybe it was the new muggle drinks, or the casino environment, or the fact that it was a fight not a duel, but either way, he focused his thoughts on sounding nonchalant as he pressed the answer button.

"Draco?" Hermione hissed into the receiver. Merlin's beard, had it really been several hours, and she'd finished dinner already? "What are you doing? Have you got settled in yet? Have they given you the hotel key and everything? There's a small black rectangular box you have to scan the barcode through-"

"Yes. Everything's fine. You don't worry. I've got everything settled in now," said Draco, trying to imagine what he would sound like if he did have everything settled, getting the hotel key, finding his room, unlocking the door...

"Have you unlocked your room to check that it works? And put your bags underneath the bed? It's the safest place for valuables in case of a theft. Oh you don't have bags. Best to sleep with your wallet underneath your pillow then. Charge your cellphone also, there's ports near the ground on the wall. Have you found them yet?"

"Yes. Yes. No need to worry. Everything's fine and settled here," said Draco, slightly irritated by the amount of questions he was expected to answer. His phone started cracking up, the casino had even worse reception than the lobby, he turned and tried to head back to the lobby.

The bartender watched him with a wordless shrug as he then cleared the lemon and mint water.

"Where are you? You're not in the hotel room are you? What's your room key? Repeat it to me?" Hermione's voice came over the phone. Draco almost tripped on a rug on the floor, his eyes taking a while to adjust to the sudden brightness of the hotel lobby.

"Uh, it's uh. It's a silver one," he managed to say, "a big intricate silver one. Lots of notches."

A pause.

"Where are you right now? Are you alright?" came Hermione's response not a moment longer.

"What makes you think that? You have no clue to say that," said Draco, now slightly defensive. It didn't help that the effects of the alcohol were really starting to kick in as well as the pain, and not in a way that detracted from it. He would most likely be hungover the next morning.

"Oh my god. Are you alright?"

A headache and sudden lurch of nausea threatened him, he placed a hand on the table with flowers on top to steady himself, and was relieved to feel the grumble of his stomach. Relief flooding through, momentarily drowning out the pain, oh good, it was only hunger pangs. It had been a while since he'd last eaten.

"I should be. I've never felt more alright than right now." Suddenly he felt a little okay. He was just hungry, he just needed to sober up a bunch, and maybe possibly make the biggest confession of his life to Hermione, and then...the muggle utopia and all the days left of the summer holidays loomed out before him in his mind's eye, of returning to Hogwarts as a couple...a wave of giddiness from being slightly drunk took over.

"You don't sound okay? Please don't space out on me..."

"I won't. I have more to live for. Whatever happens I won't lose my mind, and I'll be back. I swear," he said, a mix of drunk and confounded. Almost as if on cue, his phone had died.

"Drat," he cursed, having a bad feeling about Hermione's reaction.

Meanwhile...

"550, sweet," said Alfredo, turning over Draco's wallet that had been so easy to pull once that shitty bloke had fallen on the ground, writhing pathetically after the fight. It was so easy, what he did, and there was a new sucker born every day, as well as a billion other tricks up his sleeve. A grin split his teeth, it was the same story each time and Edward was no different, if that was even this fucker's name...they had a habit of lying, each new sucker who thought they could outsmart him...

"Hey what's this...a car he's trying to get rid of but no car license..." his eyes lit up.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the two reviews on last chapter! It's so encouraging to see a response after such a long time and that there's still interest in this story! Please review, all thoughts would be absolutely appreciated and loved. Hope y'all doing well and have a good day/night after reading this~~

-WhymsicalBell


	25. Hermione's Heroics

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 25: Hermione's Heroics

"I have to go...my student...Lucie, needs some extra homework help this afternoon," fibbed Hermione, picking an old student whom she used to tutor that lived approximately two hours away from their home via train, "surprise test first week back. She just realised and phoned me this morning. Said she hadn't studied all holidays..."

"Oh. I thought Lucie was doing well?" said her mum, though Hermione knew she wouldn't call as Lucie's iron gated complex was far up a windy hill with poor connection and they barely picked up anyway.

"You can always do better," said Hermione, feeling the weight of her wallet, keys, spare jacket and more in her handbag which had one strap clutched precariously in her hand from where it rested on her shoulder. It had taken her a while to pull up the guts to do this, but a visit to Draco was far overdue, and sometimes the situation aged you and made you do more grown up things, like lying for the better good, that she had never done before. Like now. All she wanted was him back home and safe really, and it was worth this risk.

"Oh. I suppose you'll get her an A++," joked her mother, and Hermione forced herself to laugh along, "well. I'll see you later this evening. I daresay you'll be a long time, with her house being 2 or so hours away or something?" she said, still chuckling at her own joke.

Hermione still laughed along weakly. Perfect, just what she needed, unquestioned alias for the next few long hours or so.

She bade goodbye to her mother and arrived at the train station, heart thumping in her chest slightly as she purchased two tickets, a single and a return. She wanted Draco back, car or not. To hell with the car anyway. He was trapped in an unfamiliar place in the muggle world with dangerous people, for _far too long_, and she was sure he would do the same for her had the roles been reversed.

She caught the first train there, watching the brown rooftops and telephone wires snake by - it was such a long journey across the motorway there. The train went a different way and took slightly longer, though it all felt too soon when she had to step of and try to find Draco's hotel. Luckily he didn't really drive far from the motorway and she was able to recognise it from his text message description, which he sent her earlier this morning when she asked. She felt her heart thudding in her chest again as she located his floor and room number, knocking on the door.

It fell right open in an instant.

"Draco?" she called, relieved to see his form by the bed, he was staring at an empty wallet and looked in distress.

"What's the matter? Something bothering you?" asked Hermione, walking over, just glad she was able to find him.

"That bastard," he said, then straightened up when he saw her, eyes widening. Was it her or did he look recently sobered up? "You're here," was all that he said, glancing behind the doorway a little.

Hermione closed it gently, "And nobody else. I have my parents thinking I'm with Lucie, a student I used to tutor-"

Draco snorted, "Getting better at lying I see."

"I only learn from the best," she quipped, pleased to see he still had a sense of humour about him after the night. He did look a little still in pain, though she couldn't pinpoint where he had been hurt. That would have to be asked later.

"I'm flattered," he said simply.

"So I caught the train here. I've a single ticket for you too...it's good to have you back home. Not lost somewhere..." Hermione swallowed, "The car though...you'd have to leave it..."

"I don't have to. Stolen. It's already gone," said Draco, then a laugh came over him, "and he returned the wallet too. Found it outside my door."

Hermione frowned, "there's an element of the story I'm missing here."

"I have a lot to tell you," he said.

"You can tell me at home. Over a cup of hot chocolate," said Hermione, smiling when Draco caught her grin, "but let's get back home. Save it for then."

"You just want me home," said Draco, a tease to his voice. Was it her or did he seem more light hearted and playful since the nights he was stranded?

She tried to push it out of her mind as she led him out of the hotel room, he didn't have much to pack, as they made their way downstairs.

"I'm not buying a car again for a long time. I think I'm done with them-" he said.

"Good. You took awful care of it," said Hermione.

"How?" he asked, incredulous.

"No parking. Stolen in the end."

"You and I have a different definition of what's good taking care of or not," mused Draco, "I thought I changed the petrol regularly and kept the engine going well, paint job untouched-"

"A broken engine might've done wonders to it being stolen," pointed out Hermione.

"You saying I should have taken out the gas tank or something after I parked it here?" asked Draco.

"And then all you'd need is an accidental fire in your room to be 100 percent done for," said Hermione.

"I just can't win can I..." said Draco, a smile to his face.

"Not when arguing with me," said Hermione, as the pair broke into laughter. She had forgotten how easily he seemed to pull words or conversations from her, especially since he...she paused. She still wasn't a hundred percent sure he was more playful or relaxed since the night so she decided to drop that thought lest it bring about realities too exciting to think of. The receptionist smiled at them as they passed by.

"Checking out dears?" she asked, seemingly unperturbed by the sight of unfamiliar women with hotel suitors.

"Trip got cut short," said Hermione.

"Happens all the time around these places," said the receptionist, punching a few numbers into the computer and taking back the hotel key, "Good day."

"I know you probably don't want the car back, too much trouble and all, but if you wanted to make a police report now is the time..." murmured Hermione as they left the lobby and walked up the street.

"I can't. I had no license in my wallet so I can't prove the car was mine. Probably how he thought he'd get away with it," said Draco.

"He took your wallet?" asked Hermione.

"I tell you. It's a long story," he said, a grin to his face.

"I just can't leave you on your own now can I," she said, as they caught the elevator up to the platform.

"Thanks..." he said, expectantly, and suddenly pulling her close as they walked out of the elevator. A lone breeze ruffled by, the sun was getting ready to begin sinking behind the buildings, a lonely rattle of the train going in an opposite direction harboured the otherwise quiet sphere.

"For...rescuing me. And coming here. I...appreciate it," he finally said, his uncomfortableness with some aspects of the muggle world coming through.

"No need. You would have done the same for me if it were reversed and I spent a summer at your place," she said.

"And I would've thought that more likely than this to ever happen. But it's reversed..." he murmured.

Hermione smiled.

The train suddenly came, slowing to a stop with the wind flickering bits of leaves and dust of the platform. Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and they stepped on the train together, finding seats as the sleek vehicle's lights went on and it began to lazily snake it's way out of the platform, an event only occurring due to everything else that had led up to the very moment, from the accidental portkey, to the bickering at Hermione's house, the lazy days of exploring her muggle suburbia with her by his side, to the heist in the city and now, a rescue trip of sorts spontaneously decided by Hermione on account of a return and a _one-way _ticket in perhaps more ways than one...


	26. One-Way Ticket

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 26: One-Way Ticket

"And then I realised...he intended to get me drunk and steal the money of me. He must've noticed the lack of license then. Opportunistic bastard."

"So that was what it was all about!" said Hermione, as the two descended into laughter on the way home.

They were nearly there, just several twisty streets separated them from their home, the windy roads flanked with cars and trees thick with the blooms of summer. Occasionally a few silken glitters of yellow and green fell from the boughs in leafy confetti bunches and fluttered to join their comrades on the ground. A pavement littered with the leaves of summer, occasionally crunching through as Draco and Hermione walked home.

A leaf landed in her hair and Hermione felt her mouth catch onto a grin as Draco swept it back, his gaze lingering on her for perhaps a moment longer.

"It was quite an adventure...I...I was really worried there for a second," said Draco, his heart fluttering as he remembered the moments spent on the floor, lying after being KO'd hard.

"Really? I knew you thought you could handle yourself but I thought you'd be worried for real there for a moment. It does sound horrifying," said Hermione, a smile lingering on her mouth.

"Yes, but...that tour of the city. Seeing more of the muggle world and everything, seeing your neighbourhood..." Draco's voice had a hint of a steely tilt to it, as he continued. Hermione could feel her own breath slowing down, a warning increase of her heart as she heard the next words come out.

"It made me realise several things. And perhaps I should have realised them earlier. I...you knew I grew up in Slytherin, under my family's wealth and legacy. And shape me a lot it did. But along with it, was this expectation to further the family legacy and follow our political views, which at that point, involved prioritising purebloods and halfbloods, over muggle borns or muggles. And of choosing partners to support these views and choosing otherwise would be seen as betraying them..."

"I thought you hated halfbloods..." Hermione's voice was coming out in a whisper. This was the first time they had ever talked about this topic. They were lucky the streets were majorly deserted.

"It's only muggle borns we hate. Because the integration of their parents requires new bank accounts to be opened in the wizarding world, new explanation of how major services work from a witch or wizard. From a pureblood perspective there's a degree of mistrust that they wouldn't like the wizarding world, would be disenamoured with it and blab to their muggle friends, or betray us. Purebloods have more to lose if that happens, as we have no footing in the muggle world. So that degree of mistrust has always been there..."

"I'm beginning to understand..." murmured Hermione softly, thinking that perhaps this was a piece of the puzzle she had been missing all the time whilst Draco had been teasing her and probably others...

"Which was used and exploited by..." Draco swallowed, "Pureblood families have had a degree of mistrust and perhaps more tension between muggle borns and us than any other group. But it was mostly used by ... the Dark Lord, in order to hook us in, and eventually use our own economic resources and political power for his own benefit." Draco paused, "when our parents began supporting the Dark Lord, it had seemed a good idea at that time. But over the years, mother has been slowly saying he's just using us for this benefit, and his true political views are not of those. He just saw a weakness we had and exploited it into his advantage to gain power. She thinks he's true views are something else. But we're too hooked in to leave...doing so would cause great problems for us now..."

Hermione nodded, suddenly she saw Draco, the boy who had always teased her, caught in the shadows of both worlds, wanting to support his family's afflictions and wanting to leave. "So you're family...supports him? I mean, of course I knew that, but-"

"We are one of the many. Not a key player at the moment, but we are affiliated with him. I...before coming to Hogwarts, I always thought I would date a pureblood, or halfblood but pretend it was pure. Those sort of details can be glossed over upon marriage you know. Life was...going to be simple. Go to Hogwarts, do well in studies, get on the Quidditch team, maybe date a girl I liked, but, it's always been in my mind to date a pureblood or halfblood, I completely didn't notice the muggle borns. When in fact...there's no reason why we can't be. Personality and chemistry does play a part, and I think..." said Draco, "being in the muggle world has made me realise how much freedom there is. And how another world exists entirely, separate from these age old prejudices of the wizarding world. I think I realised if it weren't for those, and I entered Hogwarts just looking for a girl who was an erudite with studies and cared enough about them just like I did, who was charming and witty, and made me smile...it would have been you Granger. If it weren't for those prejudices you would've been a good candidate to date and...maybe I would've dated you...the broken portkey has been a real _one-way ticket_ of seeing, in more ways than just one..."

"Really? All these years? The teasing?" asked Hermione, unsure of what to say. A shower of leaves fell from around her, and cluttered through the patch of sunlight falling through the trees and illuminating a patch of pavement. A faint drizzle had started, the first sign of rain after a summer of scorching heat, and fell in tiny but cooling raindrops that derelicted upon touch with their skin and hair. A faint plodding through the canopy chorusing like a thousand froggy croaks, each picking up as the other died.

"Come, we should be home," she said, lacing her fingers through him as they began a slow meander home.

"I think you've always known. And...I want to date you. If you want it. I mean...the muggle world has been amazing and opened my eyes to so many things. Especially the freedom of existence and how I could have, and should have dated you if I had the freedom of choice. I understand if that's not something you want to do," said Draco curtly, "but I would always be happy to date you should you want to give it a chance..."

"Always," said Hermione, surprising herself all of a sudden, memories of how well they walked or laughed came to mind, maybe they were a good pairing afterall, "I've always wondered..."

Draco smiled, they kissed under the swirling leaves and rain, a burst of momentary happiness under the bright sunlight. And broke apart what seemed like an infinitely long time later.

"The relationship...how will we manage at Hogwarts..." said Hermione, "especially with increasing tensions and..."

"That's up to us to figure out. We can either keep it going or lie and pretend on the surface, or...come out with it. Whichever's better, but...we'll manage. One way or another," said Draco, "speaking of which. Chudley Cannons or Puddlemore United, which one do you support? I've always wondered..."

And so the air ran rifle with the sounds of talk over much overdue topics and laughter floating through the fresh breeze as the two meandered home.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and following, and of course, the few reviews that this story gathered. I know I've complained about the low (or what I think is low) number of reviews at times (53 by this chapter), but thank you so much for the support and interest in this story. Even if author's don't say it, it definitely makes a difference to see people reading, following, and reviewing, and those reviews have lit up my day and helped this story along. I can't believe I've pretty much finished it (there's only one more chapter after this). This is the first multi-chap story I've ever finished, and it's quite an experience to finish something I started. At times I thought it was cringey or I had grown up a little from when I first started writing it, but I kept going because I thought there was interest and wanted to complete it to do this story justice. But anyways, I hope you've enjoyed it, this story and everything, and can't wait to post up the last chapter. Also, I did change the storyline a little as I went, so I actually removed the sections where Hermione and Draco were exploring the muggle world that I originally asked ideas for (amusement park, etc, as well as the Selina story arc etc) because I just thought it wouldn't fit in with the mood of the story after this, and ultimately I thought the mood was more important than minor story arcs that might not match the overall mood or direction of the story. So sorry for the people who came up with suggestions - I did genuinely think I was going to write them at that time, but I changed the storyline and everything since. Please don't go too hard on me for that, just be glad I finished the story despite difficulties with time and everything.

Once again, thanks for reading and please review if you have something to say! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and have a good day~~

-Whymsicalbell

P.S. I based some of the dialogue of a JK Rowling interview where she said part of the reason why Draco teased Hermione so much over the years was because he had a small crush on her but couldn't have her. And if it weren't for the age old prejudices, since Draco was always looking for an intelligent witty wife, it might've made sense to date her, so that might've been why there was so much tension. Even if he didn't know it at that time. Isn't that a cool fact for us Dramione shippers? :P


	27. Not-So-Accidental Portkey

One-Way Ticket

Chapter 27: Not-So-Accidental Portkey

It was september the first, azure blue skies spanned the landscape all around, occasionally dotted with fluffy picturesque clouds, crisp breeze and wild wurthering winds zipped through the spaces, occasionally launching on a dead end and flattening a piece of clothing or coat flat against the wearer. Hermione and Draco stood at the platform, ready to take the first train back to King's Cross, except they weren't going to take the train, and what lay between them and the wizarding world was another portkey, unaccidental this time, ready to transport them both to the aforementioned train station.

"I never thought I'd enjoy these two months more than I have in my life..." said Draco, a fresh, ready, grin on his face as he had his fingers laced through Hermione's. The wild and vividly memorable summer of a first date, amusement parks, a short holiday in Italy with their parents, and more floated to mind. Two vividly memorable months of happiness and laughter, as the newly dating couple learnt more about each other, the things that made them tick, the little details about their Hogwarts lives and general lives that had been previously unsaid all these years. It had indeed been a wonderful two months, with many many great memories to look back on, all of which passed in a blissful summer blur which was beginning to fade now, as the new year and all it would bring loomed ahead. With escalating tensions between the dark lord and his followers, and the rest of the wizarding population.

"As have I," said Hermione, nothing but a crystal sweet smile on her lips as she cast a glance back at Draco. A flock of birds fluttered by and their sombre cuckoos lingered in the air as they stood together, him tightening his embrace on her shoulders a little.

"Are you still going to keep the promise?" asked Hermione, referring to the promise of still being in their relationship once the year resumed.

"Of course," said Draco, "Maybe we'll be out with it in day one and who cares what the other fuckers think. Maybe we'll hide it to avoid tensions but reveal it at the right time. One way or another, we'll figure it out."

And so they smiled as the clock ticked to the right time, and they placed their hands on the portkey - another giftbox, but it's glitzy glamour had nothing on their simple joy that floated in the air around them. As they placed their hands on the not-so-accidental portkey and with a simple gust of wind, they were no more, whisked away to Hogwarts, a life of adventures and new trials and tribulations.

* * *

Author's Note: Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but I did want this particular ending to bring it full-circle. I think that's this story for a wrap, there's possibly a sequel (or you can imagine it ^^), but I don't have the full inspiration right now so assume there's nothing. But I think it's a cool concept (them back at Hogwarts with an already-there relationship and seeing how that goes) and I might want to explore in another story sometime, but depends on inspiration. Don't assume anything but yeah, I thought it ended of on an interesting note. Thanks so so much for reading, hope you enjoyed this last chapter and have a good day~~

-Whymsicalbell


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